


We'll Face Our Demons (Together)

by AdelenMontgomery



Series: If Only [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hallucinations, Matchmaker Natasha Romanov, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, aggressively remaining friends, but they refuse to do anything about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelenMontgomery/pseuds/AdelenMontgomery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The sooner we find Bucky the better, I swear,” Miranda muttered.<br/>“How is that going to help?”<br/>“Seriously?” Miranda asked, raising an eyebrow. “Steve, honey, I think you are in so deep you found Narnia.” She shook her head fondly.<br/>Before Steve could ask her to elaborate, Pepper approached them...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paintball

“If you don’t drop it, I’ll drop you,” Miranda warned Nat, adjusting her grip. She tightened her hold on Nat’s ankles as she shifted her weight on Miranda’s shoulders.

“I’m just saying you’d make a cute couple. Cute enough that the media will stop wondering who he’s a lovesick puppy for,” Natasha said.

“I’m not the one he has a crush on.”

“So you’ve said. Two inches to the left,” Natasha instructed. Miranda shuffled over accordingly.

“Is your gaydar broken, or do you just not have it? And how complicated is this? I can’t keep you on my shoulders forever.”

“Almost done. And actually, you make a valid point. I just assumed Steve was straight.”

“Oh, look, you were wrong about something. But, quite frankly, I’m not sure he’s admitted it to himself, so,” Miranda said, stopping herself just before she shrugged.

“We’ll have to fix that. But in the meantime, Steve still needs a date for the gala at the end of the month.”

“He’s gone alone before,” Miranda countered.

“Yeah, and women practically throw themselves at him and he gets really uncomfortable. People are less like to flirt with someone who’s in a relationship.”

“We’re _not_ dating.”

“I know, I know,” Natasha placated, dismounting Miranda’s shoulders. “But the public doesn’t need to know that. Look, Steve is the most awkward person I have ever encountered when it comes to flirting or dating. You’ll be helping him out.”

“Fine,” Miranda relented. “I’ll go, but on the condition that you stop playing matchmaker with us. He’s not interested in me. Get your gaydar fixed.” She paused and looked around. “Was that the last target?”

“Yeah. Everything should be ready, now we just wait for everyone to get down here.” Natasha started walking back to the the start of the maze, and Miranda walked alongside her. “How are you getting along with the new nanny?”

“She’s nice. Thanks for the recommendation, by the way.”

“No problem.”

“How’d you meet her? Wait, let me guess: classified mission.”

“You’re getting better,” Natasha grinned.

“It’s almost like that’s the answer I get for everything,” Miranda said sarcastically.

“Funny how that happens with spies.”

*****

About an hour later, everyone was standing outside the paintball maze in minimal protective gear. They were waiting for Jarvis to divide the teams and light up their vests with the appropriate color. They called it urban combat training, but in all reality it was just because they were all competitive as hell.

“Have you talked to Thor recently?” Steve asked.

“Yesterday, yeah. They’re doing alright. I think Thor is bored though. He’d rather seek out his enemies than hide from them,” Miranda replied.

“We’ll have to bring him in then. Give him something to do.”

“Darcy would appreciate that immensely, I’m sure.” A buzzer went off, and all the conversations came to a halt.

“ _The teams have been divided_ ,” Jarvis announced. The team indicator lights on everyone’s vests blinked twice before staying red for a few seconds and then turning off. Except for Miranda’s, which was blue rather than red.

“Hang on, something goofed. Why am I a one-woman team?”

“To test your powers,” Natasha grinned, handing her a blindfold. “We’re going to see how well you can do using them and _only_ them to get through the maze.”

“You’re joking,” Miranda said flatly.

“She’s not. You’ve read what we have, Douglas. Records say you should have no problem with this,” Tony commented.

“This is dumb,” she muttered, tying the blindfold over her eyes.

“Can you see anything?” Natasha asked, waving her hand in front of Miranda’s eyes.

“Not with my eyes,” Miranda replied.

“Good,” Natasha said, motioning for everyone to move into the maze. “Jarvis will tell you when to start.”

Miranda stayed still as she listened to everyone enter the maze, nodding in response to the ‘good luck’ she got from Bruce. She hadn’t done it in a long time, but using her powers like this wasn’t anything new.

_‘You have be aware of your surroundings,’ Bucky had told her, tying a blindfold over her eyes, blocking out the bright summer gardens of Versailles. ‘Use your senses.’_

_‘To do what?’_

_‘Spar with me. Now focus. You don’t need your eyes to see, you said so yourself.’_

In the present, she took a steadying breath. “I can do this,” she whispered to herself.

“ _Miss Douglas, you may enter the maze,_ ” Jarvis told her.

“I can do this,” she repeated, taking her first steps into the maze.

*****

Her progress was slow at first, but luckily she didn’t run into anything. She heard a rustle to her left, and rotated, firing twice as soon as she confirmed that the noise came from a person.

‘ _If you ever shoot someone, mean it. The easiest kill shot is a clean double tap to the heart,_ ’ Natasha had told her once. It was almost reflexive now.

“They never stop stinging, no matter how often we do this,” Bruce grumbled. Miranda chuckled softly before moving on.

She paused for a moment in the door to the next room. She couldn’t hear anything, but she knew Clint was in there. She had to be careful if she didn’t want to get hit. She sidestepped to avoid a paintball before firing a return shot.

“This isn’t the Matrix, Andy,” Clint joked.

“Nope. I’m prettier than Reeves anyway.” She took another shot and heard it splatter on his vest as his feet hit the ground when he dropped from his hiding spot to ensure “fatality.”

“You’re getting better at this.”

“Thanks,” she smiled before moving on. She swore when she ran into a box in the middle of the hallway that hadn’t been there before and again when she got hit on her arm by a paintball. She dropped, using the box as cover.

“How am I the first one to get a hit?” Tony shouted from his spot.

“The box threw me off,” she shouted back. Miranda steadied her breathing, calculating her next move.

 _‘Arrogant men are the easiest to kill. Use their arrogance against them,’_ Bucky had told her once, on one of his bad days. She had struggled to keep up with the Russian then, but the advice had been simple enough to understand.

“That was pretty clever of you,” she shouted. She slowly moved around the box, staying out of Tony’s sightline.

“I’ve been known be.”

“But not clever enough,” she said, rounding his cover just enough to shoot him in the back.

“Damn it.”

“You lose, clever boy,” she smirked. Miranda quickly got back to her feet and moved on. Three down, two to go.

*****

The maze wasn’t very big, Miranda knew that, but it seemed longer as she moved through it without encountering Natasha and Steve. She knew where they were, and that they were planning to attack at the same time, but the minutes ticked by slowly.

They were in the next room, the last room before the very end. Miranda pressed herself to the wall in the hall, planning, waiting. She took a steady breath, then crept down the hall with quiet steps.

Steve grabbed her from behind as soon as she was fully in the room, picking her up so her feet couldn’t touch the ground.

“Ugh, no fair!” she whined, thrashing around. She felt his grip loosen, and jabbed her elbow into his side. He dropped her and she took a few steps away.

“And how was that fair?” Steve retorted. She grinned devilishly. Her smile disappeared quickly when she felt two paintballs hit her in the back though.

“You’re dead,” Natasha stated. “You let yourself get distracted. You have to always be aware of your surroundings.”

“Right,” Miranda replied, taking the blindfold off. She squinted against the bright lights. “But to be fair, I don’t have combat training, nor do I have a need for it.”

“Not yet,” Natasha said, walking out of the room.

“That sounds vaguely ominous,” Miranda muttered. Steve chuckled.

“I think it was more... prophetic.”

“What are you planning, Rogers?”

“ _I’m_ not planning anything.” Miranda narrowed her eyes before turning on her heel and striding out of the room.

“Alright, Captain, let’s go get ready for round two,” she called over her shoulder.

*****

For the next three rounds, they were split into two teams of three. Team Red was Bruce, Tony, and Clint, and Team Blue was Steve, Natasha, and Miranda. Best two out of three went to Team Blue, though the last round was pretty close. 

After everyone had cleaned up, they gathered on the communal floor for dinner. 

“Thank god for crockpots,” Miranda muttered, checking the roast to see if it was done. “I’m too tired to cook.” She turned the crockpot down so that it would just stay warm. 

“Only downside is that we’ve been smelling it all day,” Steve said, pulling plates out of the cabinet. 

“You saying my cooking smells bad?”

“I’m saying the opposite. Did you need a bowl for the carrots and potatoes?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she replied, digging in a drawer for the slotted spoon. She handed it to Steve after a glance at the clock. “Could you scoop the carrots and potatoes into the bowl? I gotta go get Ben, Grace gets off in ten.”

“No problem, go ahead.”

“Thanks!” she called over her shoulder, blowing a dramatic kiss. “You’re the best!”

“You two are so cute,” Natasha said, appearing at Steve’s side. He was already turning pink, but knowing that Natasha had seen it made him turn pink faster. “The public is going to eat it up.”

“What?”

“She agreed to go to the gala with you. A few pictures and everyone will think you’re dating.”

“Nat, we’re just friends.”

“Well, your good  _ friend _ has basically agreed to fake date you so people stop flirting with you. A few appearances here and there, then we release a fake announcement confirming the rumours that you’re dating, and people will probably leave you alone. Simple.”

“Right,” Steve said flatly, scooping carrots and potatoes out of the crockpot. 

“Unless you’d rather tell me who you have a crush on so I can set you up.”

“Soon as you find him, you can do just that,” Miranda commented, sweeping back into the kitchen with Ben on her hip. “Let me know, too, I want pictures.” 

“What kind of pictures?” Natasha asked, smiling at Ben. Miranda handed him to her when he made grabby hands at her. 

“Awkward prom style,” Miranda grinned. She nudged Steve out of her way so she could clean the roast. 

“It’s a deal,” Natasha said. 

“Why am I friends with either of you?” Steve asked rhetorically. 

“We have the same level of interest in reckless self-endangerment?” Miranda provided. 

“We also make better friends than enemies,” Natasha added. 

“That was rhetorical, guys.”

“We know,” they chimed, grinning at each other. Steve shook his head fondly as he took the bowl and plates into the dining area. Natasha helped him set the table after she strapped Ben into his highchair. 

Dinner was a social affair as always, and wasn’t interrupted by a call for the Avengers (which seemed to be happening more and more frequently). It was a good day.

 


	2. Fake Dates One and Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you already read the first chapter (before Aug 18, 2016), you might want to go back because I added a scene at the end that was originally part of this chapter, but it fit better at the end of Chapter 1.

It was childish. She knew it was childish. Was that going to stop her? Nah. Should it? Yeah, probably. It wasn’t though. 

“Psssst. Pssssst, Steve. Wake up,” she whispered. “Steeeeve.”

“Hm? Time is it?” he asked groggily. 

“Early. Jarvis said you were usually up by now.” He glanced over at where she was crouched by the side of his bed, holding two cupcakes. The two candles illuminated her face little, otherwise she was silhouetted against the curtains. Steve wanted to draw the scene, just to practice shading. “This one’s yours,” she said, resting the blue frosted cupcake on his nightstand. 

“What are they for?”

“Well, I uh, since he’s not-- I mean, I thought,” she sputtered before frowning. “This went a lot smoother in my head,” she grumbled. “They’re for Bucky’s birthday.” She stared at the red cupcake in her hands. “It sounded like a good idea at two a.m.” 

“It sounds like a good idea at-- 7:30 a.m., too,” Steve comforted. “What kept you up?” he asked as he sat up. 

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, standing up to give him space. “It really doesn’t.” 

“When was the last time you slept a full night?”

“Uh, before college?” she guessed. “So, five years or so?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. Besides, when’s the last time you got a full night?” He didn’t answer and she just raised an eyebrow. 

“Point taken,” he said, picking up his cupcake. “So what was your plan exactly? Shove a cupcake in my face and then…?”

“Nat says we have to start the dating rumours before the gala, so I thought maybe we could go to Central Park? It’s supposed to be nice,” she said, settling at the foot of Steve’s bed. “Other than that, not much,” she shrugged, turning her cupcake in her hands. “Cheers?” she offered, lifting her cupcake. 

“Cheers,” Steve laughed, tapping his cupcake against hers. They blew out the candles before they got any shorter. “The park sounds nice. We can wing it from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Miranda said, licking frosting off her candle. “I hope he has a good day today,” she commented absently. 

“Me, too.” 

“He’s 98 today, even though he’s technically like 32, like you,” she said, scooping up frosting with her finger. “Cause neither of you aged while you were frozen.”

“Sometimes it feels like it though.”

“Everyone has days when they feel old, it’s just harder on you ‘cause you weren’t here for the rapid improvement and expansion of technology. The Space Race and the Cold War lead to rapid development of various technologies, many of which bled into civilian markets. God, I sound like a textbook.”

“That’s not a necessarily a bad thing.”

“You only say that because every time I say something it’s new information to you.”

“That’s not true,” Steve countered. She raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes it’s not new.” She giggled. 

“You’re such a punk,” she smiled, getting up. “Get ready and come on down to my floor. We’ll leave around nine.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Her laughter echoed a bit in the hall as she left. 

*****

“I thought you said it was supposed to be nice,” Steve teased as Miranda tucked a blanket around Ben in the stroller. 

“It  _ is  _ nice. A little on the chilly side, sure, but it’s still nice,” she retorted, standing up. “But more importantly, it’s  _ public _ . Nat said that we have to make this believable if we want people to leave you alone.”

“So she made reservations somewhere?” Steve asked as they began walking again.

“Yes, she did. Friday at six. She wouldn’t say where though.”

“I’m not surprised, are you?” Miranda shook her head, smiling. 

“Not even a little bit.”

“I’ve been wondering, why did you agree to this?”

“Everyone thinks we’re dating anyway,” she shrugged, “and I think it could be fun. We can stage dramatic scenes in public, but neither of us are actually emotionally invested, so we aren’t gonna get hurt, and then we can laugh about the media’s response in private. Just light a match and watch it burn.”

“What kind of scenes are you thinking of?”

“Oh, we’ll have to go through our honeymoon phase first. Complete and utter puppy love,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. “Then maybe a few dramatic fights? Can you imagine the headlines? I’d be vilified!” she laughed.

“Why would you be vilified?”

“Steve, if the public thinks I broke your heart, I’d be the most hated woman on the planet.”

“And what if I broke your heart?”

“Steve Rogers, a  _ heartbreaker _ ?” Miranda gasped dramatically, clutching at her heart. “People’s heads would explode! No one would believe that America’s golden hero is a  _ heartbreaker _ ,” she laughed. “The books have already given that title to Bucky.”

“He was a charmer,” Steve said. “Don’t remember him breaking too many hearts though.”

“I think he broke one,” Miranda said seriously, staring at Steve. 

“Maybe,” Steve replied before breaking eye contact. Miranda swatted at his arm. 

“Hey, stay with me. Don’t get lost on memory lane, I can’t easily follow you there.”

“Sorry,” Steve apologised with a small smile. 

“It’s alright, it happens to the best of us. I just get worried. Your eyes kinda glaze over, and I’m afraid sometimes that you won’t come back.” Steve stared at her for a minute, and she stared resolutely ahead.”Any update from Sam?” she asked, changing the subject. 

“He thinks he may have found a lead in Eastern Europe. He’s flying out tomorrow, I think, to go check it out.” Miranda nodded. 

“I hope it pans out. Maybe a little birthday magic will make my wish come true,” she joked. 

“God willing,” Steve said. 

*****

“I feel ridiculous,” Miranda told Natasha as she stepped out from behind the changing screen. “Why do you even have this?” she asked, looking in the floor length mirror. The black cocktail dress hugged every curve. 

“It’s from an old cover,” Natasha said. “And you look good.”

“Thanks. I’m just not one to go for skin tight. Especially if I’m supposed to be dating _ Captain America _ , Nat.”

“You’re a modern woman, you can wear what you want.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re still trying to get Steve and I to actually date, and somehow think that dressing me like a  _ seductress _ is gonna make that happen.”

“I  _ would  _ argue that the dress would look better on Steve’s floor.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Miranda swore, walking back behind the screen. “I’m not wearing this fucking dress!” 

“Have it your way,” Natasha said, handing her another dress. This one was a red a-line with sheer lace over it. 

“So you do own something that isn’t skin tight,” Miranda teased. 

“I have a diverse wardrobe.” Miranda chuckled as she slipped on the dress. 

“I’ve noticed. This is much better,” she said, coming back out and standing in front of the mirror again. 

“I agree. It looks better on you than it did on me.”

“Thanks. But if you follow that up with a comment about Steve’s floor, I’m cancelling,” she threatened. 

“Not Steve’s floor.  _ Your _ floor however…”

“Nat, I swear to god!” Miranda laughed, throwing the black dress at her.

“You left a loophole,” she shrugged. Miranda shook her head, an amused smile on her lips. “Come on, let’s finish getting you ready.”

*****

“This is very public,” Steve murmured. 

“That’s the idea,” Miranda replied, waving at a photographer.

“I didn’t think we would have to deal with this. I wouldn’t have agreed if I had known.” 

“Steve, getting photographed is the entire reason we’re out at all,” Miranda said as they stepped into the restaurant. “Just relax. We gotta light the match, remember?”

“Right,” Steve nodded. 

“Alright, Mr. Suave, go check us in,” she laughed, pushing him towards the host’s podium. 

A few minutes later they were seated at the best table in the house. A waitress brought a bottle of champagne over shortly after they were seated. 

“Oh, we didn’t order champagne,” Miranda objected. 

“The gentleman over there bought the bottle for your table,” the waitress explained, pointing in his direction. Both Tony and Pepper raised their glasses. Miranda held back a laugh as she nodded in return. 

“Thank you,” she said politely as the waitress filled their flutes. She left the bottle and walked away. “Why am I not surprised,” Miranda mused as she looked at the menu options. She glanced up at Steve, who was bright pink. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re blushing. Profusely.”

“Because there’s a betting pool on us,” he blurted. 

“Of course there is,” Miranda said, resigned. “What are the categories?” 

“What are you suggesting?” he asked, looking up at her. She smirked as she took a sip of champagne. The gleam in her eyes was both dangerous and exciting. 

“I think we should give them what they want.”

“Light a match?” Steve asked, a similar look growing on his face.

“Precisely.” Miranda looked back at the menu. “Is there money on a kiss?”

“I think so. I only overheard the end of the conversation,” Steve replied, looking at his own menu, and blushing a darker shade of pink.

“You mean to say there’s a betting pool on how long it takes us to have sex?” Miranda asked conversationally. 

“To put it bluntly.”

“We live with mature adults,” Miranda said sarcastically. “How long do they think it’ll take?”

“Tony thinks we’ll break before the gala, Sam thinks the night of the gala, and I didn’t hear anyone else’s bet.”

“Hmm,” Miranda hummed, closing her menu. “You know, I had a feeling I was being naive when I thought they would leave us alone.”

“I think we were both too trusting there,” Steve replied, closing his own menu. 

Their waiter appeared a moment later and they placed their orders. The waiter took their menus and left as quickly and gracefully as he had appeared. 

“So two Avengers are here with dates. And I’ve confirmed that, none of our other friends are here,” Miranda said. “No wonder there were so many photographers.”

“I suppose.”

“Steve, we don’t have to stay if you’re uncomfortable,” Miranda offered, gently resting her hand over his. 

“I’ll be okay.” Her eyes flickered over his face for a moment before she sat back, taking her hand with her. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re thinking about Peggy, aren’t you?” she asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Steve admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve, it’s fine. You never got closure. ‘We Almost Dated’ is a weird relationship to have with someone. It’s half the reason I keep insisting we’re just friends,” she told him, sipping at her champagne. It was dry and bubbly, but it gave her something to do. 

“Really?”

“Things are a lot more recent for you than they are for everyone else. You need time, and quite frankly, so do I. Neither of us are in a position to pursue a romantic relationship.”

“I don’t think I ever was.”

“Bucky told me you were pretty awkward when it came to the ladies,” Miranda smirked, quirking an eyebrow. 

“You know, part of me hopes we don’t find him because I dread being in the same room as both of you.” 

“I only believe the second half of that sentence. And whatcha scared of, Stevie?” she asked, batting her eyelashes. “Worried we’re gonna embarrass ya?”

“I  _ know _ you’re gonna embarrass me. If Bucky remembers everything, he’s got some interesting stories.”

“So you’re telling me I don’t even have the good ones? Damn, that’s disappointing.”

“Some stories shouldn’t be recounted,  _ ever _ , let alone to a nice girl like you.”

“Steve, you have known me three whole months are you still think I fit the definition of a ‘nice girl’? Are you fucking with me?”

“Okay, I take it back,” Steve laughed. 

“Damn right,” she muttered under her breath, grinning. 

Their meals arrived shortly after that. The rest of the night was filled with the same style of easy conversation-- and plenty of plotting to teach their friends a lesson. The photographers got more photos than they knew what to do with. The fake relationship ploy was off to a good start. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I funny yet?   
> ~~Natasha has no chill ~~~~~~


	3. Things Keep Getting Better and Better, Huh?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is sarcastic, btw. Kinda.

Miranda absently bounced Ben on her hip as she stared at the files again. They had been able to identify the serums that Hydra had injected her with, but there were a few discrepancies that didn’t make sense. 

“Bruce, come here a sec,” she said, waving him over. “Look at these dates. They didn’t inject these all at once.”

“They injected Extremis four days before the other serum. How did we miss that?”

“We’ve been staring at them too long, probably. It just didn’t click.” She pulled up the chart showing the change in her temperature and bpm. “My temperature was dropping like when we got sick the first time, before I had my powers. And then it started increasing here,” she pointed at the dot, “which is the same day they injected Extremis.”

“The extreme increase in temperature makes sense then. And your temperature started to come down after they injected this,” Bruce said, pointing to the second serum on the list. “They called it T.A.H.I.T.I. in another file.”

“It was still high. It didn’t come down until after they injected this third one, which we know is the bastardised super soldier serum.” She paused. “I don’t think they meant to help me. Tony said Extremis was extremely volatile, and that was almost a year after I was injected with it, they had time to improve. Hydra had to have been aiming to kill me.”

“That’s hardly surprising at this point.”

“True,” she agreed. 

“But I think you might be onto something. Your early symptoms match the previous time you were ill, up until they injected Extremis.”

“And that’s when things got weird.”

“Exactly. It’s possible that your mutation played a part in some of the oddities up to the injection of T.A.H.I.T.I. four days later. From then on it would be a combination of the serums and your mutation.”

“You mentioned you found T.A.H.I.T.I. in another file? Was there anything useful?”

“It was very brief. Apparently the T.A.H.I.T.I. program was some sort of resurrective experiment.”

“And they thought that it would balance out Extremis.”

“When that didn’t work, they moved on to the super soldier serum.”

“It makes scientific sense, but what I can’t figure out why Loki let them do any of this,” Miranda huffed. “He wouldn’t risk my life for a science experiment.”

“But he would risk a science experiment for you life,” Tony piped up as he reentered the lab. “They probably presented it like any other experimental treatment. Anything to convince him it was the best option.”

“We already knew that, but in this context it seems even worse,” Miranda said, wrinkling her nose. “You said before that this ‘treatment’ had a better chance of killing me than helping me. What if the serum was a last ditch to save me? Extremis was the treatment, T.A.H.I.T.I. was supposed to fix the problems caused by Extremis--”

“And the serum was to make sure you survived,” Bruce finished. 

“It’s a solid theory.”

“This is all very… science fiction,” Miranda winced. 

“We have a lot of that here; you fit in fine,” Tony said.

“I just hope they haven’t tried again. From a scientific standpoint, they would want to repeat the experiment to see if they could replicate the results,” Miranda stated. Tony and Bruce shared a glance that made Miranda’s stomach churn. “They already have tried, haven’t they?”

“Yes. And unfortunately, they succeeded,” Bruce told her, adjusting his glasses. 

“Meet your successors, Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” Tony said as he brought up the files on the Maximoff twins. 

*****

Miranda closed the sliding door and wrapped her cardigan around her a little tighter as she stepped out onto the small balcony. Leaning against the railing, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She stared at it for a moment before making her call. 

“Hey. I have a question for you,” she said as soon as she heard him pick up. “Do you know anything about a T.A.H.I.T.I. program?”

“ _ How do you know about that? _ ” he asked. Miranda could tell by his tone that there was no way in hell that she was supposed to know about the T.A.H.I.T.I. program. So some honesty on her part was going to be necessary to get what she needed from him. 

“Hydra injected a serum into me, and there was a reference to the same serum in another report about a program called T.A.H.I.T.I. I thought you might be able to shed some light on it.” She heard him sigh. “Uncle Phil, please. Anything could help. I just want to understand what’s going on with me.”

“ _ This is something I’d rather discuss in person _ ,” he replied after a long pause. 

“That bad?” she asked, running her free hand through her hair. It was long enough to tuck behind her ears now.

“ _ Potentially. Regardless, it’s a long conversation. _ ” Miranda chewed her lip for a moment before agreeing to meet. Then the call was over and she went inside. 

*****

Ben was happily waddling around in his walker, giggling when he bumped into things. Miranda thought it was cute, especially since the baby walker looked like a hot rod car, complete with flame decals. And as long as he wasn’t in danger or breaking things, she was going to let him have fun. 

“Woah, careful little dude,” Sam warned when Ben bumped into him. He was at the perfect trip height. Ben just grinned and wandered off a short ways. “Has he started walking yet?”

“Not without support, no. Probably soon though,” Miranda told him, fondly watching her son. “Is Steve still breaking punching bags?”

“Yeah, he is,” Sam sighed, settling into on of the armchairs. “There’s sand all over the floor.” Miranda wrinkled her nose. Sand was annoying. 

“He’s really taking this hard,” she said after a moment. “And it’s only been three months…”

“Steve was really hoping that this lead was, you know,  _ the  _ lead. That’s why he went with me.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but we’re not the only ones looking for him. And maybe… Has Steve considered that maybe Bucky doesn’t  _ want  _ to be found?” Miranda asked. Sam sighed. 

“I have a feeling that’s why he’s destroying punching bags right now.”

“OH MY GOD, that is so CUTE!” squealed Darcy, stepping off the elevator and making a beeline towards Ben. Miranda and Sam shared a glance that promised they would continue their conversation later, but for now there were people to greet and introductions to be made. 

The lockdown that Darcy and Jane had been under since the Douglases kidnapping had been lifted a few week prior, and now they were going to stay in the tower for a few days for the gala (because Thor, as an Avenger, needed to be there) before going off wherever Jane’s research took them. 

“Andy, has he started talking yet?” Darcy interrupted just as Thor was about to go into Protective Big Brother mode after the pleasantries had been taken care of. 

“No real words just yet. Soon though, probably,” Miranda told her. “He hasn’t taken his first steps yet either, but I’m sure he will soon. He likes to move,” she smiled, taking him out of his walker since he looked like he felt left out. “Dontcha, kiddo?” Ben smiled and buried his face in his mother’s shoulder. 

“Aw, he’s shy!” Darcy cooed. Miranda laughed, probably the hardest and most genuinely she had in a long time. 

“This child is the opposite of shy and it’s a problem. Let’s all sit down and I can fill you in on what he’s done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The baby walker](https://www.diapers.com/p/combi-all-in-one-entertainer-walker-silver-flames-1184568?site=CA&sku=CU-198&utm_source=Google&utm_medium=cpc_D&utm_campaign=GooglePLA&) Thank you for reading!


	4. The Gala

In the four months that the Douglases had been living in the tower, Miranda had almost always been in jeans, a t-shirt, and a cardigan; a perfect outfit for someone like her that was stuck between being a college student and a young mother. It was comfy, cozy, and easy to move in. She looked and felt like herself. It was good, it was grounding. 

The simpleness of her everyday dress made her and everyone else forget she used to wear gowns and dresses like armor, and that she had played Hydra leaders in a fashion that would have made Machiavelli proud. 

But staring at the silver-blue off-shoulder gown brought back a lot of memories, and Miranda wasn’t entirely sure she could get through the night. It had been different, earlier, when they had tried the dresses on to make sure that they fit. Darcy had twirled around in a circle until she got dizzy because she liked how her skirt moved. 

“I’m like a princess!” she had giggled. She had grabbed Miranda’s hands and they spun around as fast as they could, even though Miranda had thrown her own clothes back on as soon as she knew the dress fit and she could move in it. Natasha had rolled her eyes fondly and muttered something in French to Pepper about them being children. 

There was no group to distract Miranda from her thoughts and memories now, and she stared at the dress hanging in the clear bag for long enough that Jarvis asked if she was alright or if she needed assistance. 

“I’m alright,” she responded, shaking the fog from her head. “Thanks, but I think I’ve got it under control,” she continued, unzipping the bag. She shrugged off her bathrobe and slipped into the gown. Once it was zipped she adjusted the fabric so it lay correctly, a practised motion even if the dress was new. 

Thankfully Natasha and Pepper had had the foresight to get her a long-sleeved dress to cover the brand on her forearm. Miranda still felt like it was a neon sign hovering over her, proclaiming to all the world who she was, who she  _ belonged to _ . 

“Shit,” she hissed, forcing herself to take steady breaths when she felt her heartbeat pick up and tears prickle behind her eyes. “Come on, girlie, you can’t mess up your makeup, you’re leaving soon.” It took her a few minutes, but she managed to calm herself down. One of the pros of living with Bruce was that she (and the others) had learned effective methods to calm themselves or their friends down. 

She glanced in the mirror to make sure she hadn’t ruined her makeup, automatically fixing a hair that had strayed out of place. 

*****

“Jarvis, what’s taking her so long?” Tony asked impatiently. 

“ _ She is on her way now, sir, _ ” Jarvis answered. Everyone got up from where they were lounging (as much as they could in formal wear) and watched as the elevator doors opened. 

“Sorry I took so long,” Miranda apologised with an easy smile, the kind that looked real to anyone that wasn’t intensely familiar with body language. “I hope I didn’t cause a delay,” she continued, red lips framing white teeth. 

“You didn’t,” Pepper assured her, looking amazing in a soft pink gown. “You look great,” she added as she stepped into the elevator. In the living room, Natasha nudged Steve towards the elevator. Miranda held the doors when they began to close.

“Are you distracted, Captain?” she teased, batting her eyelashes in mock seduction. 

“He just gets flustered around women,” Tony said as the elevator began its descent. “You should have seen him the first time someone flirted with him, it was hilarious.”

“Tony, be nice,” Pepper admonished.

“I thought the whole point of this--” she grabbed Steve’s arm, gesturing to the two of them-- “was on the premise that Steve is incredibly awkward around women and doesn’t know what to do when someone flirts with him.” Tony waved her off. 

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.” Both women rolled their eyes. 

The couples stepped off the elevator in the lobby, the engine working hard to take it back up to get another round of passengers. Nat, Clint, Darcy, Thor and Jane stepped off the other elevator a moment later. After a few minutes the first elevator returned with Bruce, Sam, and Rhodey. The group headed towards the main doors to pile into the limo waiting outside. 

“Earth to Steve,” Miranda said, waving her hand in front of his eyes when he didn’t move, even after she tugged on his arm. “Steeeeve.”

“Hm?” he started. 

“You okay, man?” Sam asked, worried. Steve looked at his friends, both of their faces shadowed with concern. 

“We don’t have to go,” Miranda offered.

“I’ll be alright,” Steve told them, offering his arm to Miranda. She took it after a moment, watching his face. “I promise, I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Miranda retorted.

“Nat has told me as much. Come on, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.” Miranda and Sam had a quick, silent conversation before relenting and walking out the door on either side of Steve.

*****

The flash of cameras was blinding, and it was hard to hear much of anything over the din of reporters clamoring for an interview. The group stuck together for a while, posing for several photos, before they all got pulled of in different directions for interviews. 

Miranda got through the first three with the same ease she had gotten through all the conversations at the Palais Garnier. Polite small talk was the language of occasions like this; something Miranda already knew, and Pepper had heartily agreed. 

It was the fourth interview when things got hairy. The reporter-- young and doubtlessly inexperienced-- touched on a topic that all his peers had had the social awareness to avoid: Loki. 

“And her history with Loki doesn’t bother you?” the reporter asked, the question directed at Steve as though Miranda wasn’t standing right there. Miranda stiffed for a moment, unconsciously tugging her sleeve down. 

“Should it?” Steve asked before Miranda could say anything. “‘Cause I don’t really think it matters. Miranda never asked for any of that to happen to her; she’s a victim of circumstances outside her control, and she did what she had to do to survive. So I take that back, it  _ does _ matter, because it makes her heroic. We’re done here,” he finished, his jaw set and eyes ablaze. With a gentle hand on Miranda’s hip, he guided her away from the reporters and into the actual gala space, quickly finding a semi-private spot. 

Miranda leaned against the wall and watched Steve pace back and forth, trying to collect himself. He wanted to punch that reporter in the face, but that wasn’t exactly an option. People settled things more “civilly” now, and  _ Captain America _ couldn’t punch an asshole reporter in the face, no matter how much he deserved it. 

“He’s right though, it should bother you,” Miranda whispered, tugging at her sleeve again. Steve stopped mid-stride, turning to look at her. 

“What?”

“They’re always gonna think of  _ him _ when they think of me. And it should bother you. Should bother everyone,” she mumbled, glancing towards where the others were for a brief moment, fiddling with her sleeve again. “I should of never agreed to this,” she said, pushing off the wall. “It was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he said, softly but firmly, stepping towards her. “His comment was uncalled for. Your past doesn’t bother me, and I don’t care if you think it should,  _ it doesn’t _ . I meant what I said, you didn’t ask for any of that. You did what you had to.” He gently wrapped his hands around one of hers. 

_ ‘I don’t like it either, James, but you said it yourself, I have to use my position to my advantage,’ she had said. _

_ ‘I meant talk to him, not this!’ Bucky responded, concern surfacing in anger. _

_ “James, what is my position?” she had asked simply, locking eyes with him through the mirror. “Am I his council? No, I’m not. I’m his lover. We’ve been over this, James. I have to.” He sighed. _

_ “Fine. Your head.” _

_ “I know,” she whispered, gently turning his head so he was looking at her again. “And I know what I’m doing.”  _

“I knew what I was doing,” she whispered, so soft that Steve almost missed it. “I always hoped… Is it true he was calmer? When I was with him?”

“From what I understand, yes.” Miranda nodded, still staring at their hands. 

“I owe you a story,” she said, looking up at him. “A lot of stories, really, but you’ve only asked for the one. I’ll tell you when we get home. First, I’m gonna have to prove that I definitely can’t get drunk, and craft the biggest ‘fuck you’ to that reporter by having a nice evening with my best guy,” she smirked, her carefully crafted armor reasserting itself.

“I thought you told the reporter from E! News that we weren’t, and I quote, ‘going steady yet,’” Steve teased. 

“That was twenty minutes ago, a lot can change,” she defended, still smirking. She looped her arm through his when he offered it. 

“Even if this is just for publicity, will you agree to be my best gal?” Steve asked with mock seriousness. 

“Oh, Captain! You’re so forward!” Miranda replied, acting like a dame in the pictures Steve and Bucky had gone to, complete with a hand draped daintily over her heart. “Yes, Steve, I’ll be your best gal, if you’ll be my best guy,” she laughed. 

“I’d be honored,” he replied, with a sincerness that made them both blush a little.

“Andy! You’ll never guess who I just met!” Darcy squealed, appearing out of nowhere and latching onto Miranda’s free arm. She almost immediately let go. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t realise you two were having a moment.” 

“Darcy,” Miranda warned. 

“Right, right,” she placated, raising her hands in surrender. “But, uh, speaking of  _ couples _ , can I please for the love of all that is holy stay on your floor until we leave? Thor and Jane have been--”

“Yes!” Miranda interrupted. “Yes, you can stay, just never, ever finish that sentence.”

“Promise,” Darcy replied, giving her a sloppy salute. “I’ll leave you two alone now,” she winked, disappearing into the gathering crowd. 

“The sooner we find Bucky the better, I swear,” Miranda muttered.

“How is that going to help?”

“Seriously?” Miranda asked, raising an eyebrow. “Steve, honey, I think you are in so deep you found Narnia.” She shook her head fondly. 

Before Steve could ask her to elaborate, Pepper approached them and helped them find their way to the table. They didn’t have a chance to speak privately again for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Alrighty, well, I am a college student, and this semester is a bit... full. I probably will not update for awhile, nor will my updates be frequent. I apologise, but there's not a whole lot I can do about it. Please bear with me! xo Adelen


	5. Trading Card #17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that! A new chapter! I'm nervously waiting for coursework to begin piling up, but so far, so good; and my only enemy is writer's block.   
> And now, for your reading pleasure, Chapter 5:

Miranda really wished she could still get drunk-- or even tipsy for that matter-- but that was no longer an option unless she drank enough to give someone her size alcohol poisoning (probably). A public event wasn’t the place to test that hypothesis. 

But she was riding off Darcy’s high as they traveled upwards in the elevator at two in the morning after the gala. 

Once they got to her floor, she pointed Steve towards the couch on her way through to show Darcy to the spare bedroom. She ducked into her own room and quickly took off her makeup and changed into sweats and a T-shirt. 

“I suppose I should have told you you could go change,” she said sheepishly, the bravado she had had a few minutes before vanishing as she sat on the opposite end of the couch. “I can wait if you want to get comfortable.” She hugged her knees to her chest as Steve stood up. 

“Would it make you feel better if I did?”

“Probably. At the very least I’d have more time to think.” 

“Well, in that case,” Steve drawled, shrugging off his jacket, “I’ll give you some time to think.” He took his tie off and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt before sitting back down. “There, I’m comfortable.”

“Anybody ever tell you you’re an asshole?” Miranda asked, eyes narrowing. Steve laughed.

“No, I think you’re the first.”

“Well you’re an asshole.” 

“And you’re stalling,” Steve said kindly, a gentle prod to redirect the conversation. Miranda chewed on her lip. 

“If you knew what I was about to do, you wouldn’t blame me,” she said, tracing nonsensical patterns on her knee. “Before I start… promise you won’t hate me?”

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” she asked, thrusting her extended pinky towards him. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, hooking his pinky around hers. Miranda chewed her lip again for a moment before shifting so that she sat cross legged on the couch facing Steve.

“I can do this thing where… it’s like a walk down memory lane. I can show you my memories, and if, uh, we wanted to, you could show me yours. Like a tour in a museum or something. Frigga taught me how to do it,” she added softly, her gaze drifting off for a moment. “Anyway,” she began again, shaking her head, “if you’re, uh, comfortable sitting in my head for the next hour, we can start.”

“Are you sure about this?” Steve asked. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“I need to do this, Steve. If we’re gonna keep fake dating, I need you to know this.”

“Okay, then whenever you’re ready.” She nodded, taking a deep breath. 

Usually when Miranda said Steve was the epitome of Americana, she was joking. Mostly, anyway. But the truth was that that was pretty much what he felt like, mentally. A glowing, sunny orb that crackled like fireworks, was an adrenaline high from rollercoasters, and the serenity of the moment before the storm-- that was the closest she could get to describing it, and it wasn’t enough. 

To Steve, it felt like one moment they were sitting in Miranda’s living room, and the next they were standing in a dark nothingness that was steadily being replaced with another room. 

“This is gonna be a bit tricky, ‘cause I was six. I’m trying to get the details right, but,” Miranda shrugged. 

“What are you showing me?”

“Let’s put it this way: we both have a Bucky Barnes Problem, and I’m showing you how mine started.” 

The room slowly filled in around them, starting with the carpeted floor and pale walls. Then came the sparse furniture-- a desk and chair, set of filing cabinets, and a few chairs facing the desk, a stiff couch pressed against one of the walls. Then some decorations appeared: a fern atop one of the cabinets, photographs and a computer on the desk, a series of poster frames on the walls. The posters quickly appeared after the frames, each a different vintage Captain America poster, except for one, which held the first five comics from 1944. Each framed item was in good to near-mint condition. Other Captain America paraphernalia was scattered about, adding the only color to the otherwise boring room.

The door opened and a little girl cautiously entered ahead of the adult behind her. Her little eyes widened in wonder as she took in the posters on the walls, and she touched the ‘A’ on her crocheted hat with reverence. 

Her uncle closed the door behind him as he entered the room. 

“Your mom told me that you got in a fight earlier this week,” Phil said casually, like his audience was older than she was. 

“Yeah,” she admitted in a small voice. “She almost didn’t let me come,” she pouted, her face darkening with child’s anger. 

“Why did you get in a fight at school?”

“Jamie Sincox said Raoul threw like a girl, which is a big fat lie! Raoul’s the best pitcher in our school! So I punched ‘im and asked if I punched like a girl.”

“And what did Jamie say?” Phil asked, amusement hidden behind a stoic mask. 

“He cried and ran to the teacher,” little Miranda said. “And then I got in trouble, and Mom almost didn’t let me come.”

“Why’s that?” The little girl’s gaze dropped to her shoes. 

“‘Cause when Miss Homestead asked me why I thought that was okay I told her it was because I don’t like bullies, and she told Mom, and Mom told Dad that I got that from you,” she murmured, playing with her hair.

Steve started laughing, and the memory was effectively muted as the real Miranda turned to look at him. 

“What?” she demanded, a tiny smile on her face. “What’s so funny, Rogers?”

“I almost got in the same fight as a kid,” he explained, still laughing. 

“I believe you,” she laughed, turning back to the scene at hand. “Now shush, and watch.”

The sound came back and the pair of spectators watched as Phil went to his desk and pulled out a small, flat package from one of the drawers, the only adornment on it a small red bow. 

“Happy birthday, Andy,” he said handing the gift to his niece. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, gently taking it and removing the cover. The little girl squealed as her older counterpart looked on fondly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she cried, wrapping her tiny arms around her uncle’s neck. 

She took a little step back and gently, slowly removed a trading card in a protective sleeve from the box, staring at it with unrestrained excitement. She hopped back and forth from foot to foot, being careful not the crumple the card. 

“If you don’t like it,” Phil began in a slow, teasing drawl that elicited the intended reaction-- little Andy froze on the spot and looked absolutely offended at the notion. 

“ _ I love it _ ,” she whispered, clutching it carefully to her chest. 

“Who’s on the card?” Steve asked. Miranda smiled as the memory shifted around them. 

“Do you really have to ask?” she teased. “That was my first trading card, #17, Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes. First edition, decent condition, circa 1945,” she recited proudly. Then, sadly, “I don’t know what happened to it. It was in my parent’s firebox, but that doesn’t mean much anymore.” 

The memory settled around them, taking the shape of the main atrium of that particular SHIELD office. Andy was sitting on her uncle’s hip as he pointed out two names on the wall. 

“Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers,” she read aloud, filled with awe. “But SHIELD wasn’t around then,” she frowned, like she wasn’t quite sure if she was right. 

“No, it wasn’t. The founders retroactively made both of them agents, since SHIELD grew out of the SSR, remember? And that’s why their names are on the wall.”

“Wow,” Andy whispered, her eyes still locked to their names, engraved side-by-side. She didn’t move other than to nod her head when her uncle instructed her to stay put as he stepped aside to discuss something with another agent. 

“Where are your parents?” asked an elderly woman. Steve stood straighter when he heard the familiar clipped English accent. Miranda’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

“I’m here visiting my uncle,” Andy replied. “He’s over there,” she pointed. 

“Oh, you’re Phil’s niece,” the woman realised. Andy nodded, taking her eyes away from the wall to look at the woman. 

“I’m Andy,” she said, jutting out her tiny hand. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Andy. I’m Peggy.” Miranda made a high-pitched sound as her younger self shook hands with  _ Peggy Carter _ . 

“How the hell did I not know I was talking to  _ Peggy Carter _ ?” Miranda groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “This is so embarrassing, I just remember her as a nice lady, oh god…”

“What do you have there?” Peggy asked, pointing to the trading card. Andy showcased it proudly.

“My uncle Phil got it for me for my birthday!”

“What a nice gift,” Peggy replied genuinely. 

The memory slowly faded out of focus and Miranda plopped down on the ground-- or what would be considered ground, since they were standing in black nothingness again. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Steve asked as Miranda curled up and groaned. 

“Yeah, I just have to rethink my whole life.” Her voice was muffled through her hands. (How that worked was something Steve choose not to think about.) After a minute she stood up, brushing off her pants. “Okay, right. Well, onto the next memory, right?” she said, rolling her shoulders back. “Eighth grade, here we come.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, I totally meant to have a bunch of memories in this chapter, but then tiny Andy was just too cute?   
> I thought it would be really adorable for her to have met Peggy, and this memory was like 17 or 18 years ago, so I imagine that it was before Peggy had Alzheimer's/before it was bad.   
> The next chapter (or two or three) will be a few more memories, and then back to the regular old plot. I'm trying to keep things moving without rushing through them; how am I doing on that?   
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Miss American Pie

The memory settled around them more quickly than the first had. Miranda’s childhood bedroom wasn’t very big, but it was packed with color. 

The white walls were hidden behind posters, maps, timelines, and art; a brightly colored bedspread was neatly laid on the bed that was pressed into one of the corners; a vibrant blue trashcan sat next to the organised desk that was left alone in favor of the floor, where two young teens sat with books and papers scattered around them. An old stereo played music softly in the background.

One of the teens was obviously Miranda, as she was beginning to look like her adult self. Steve didn’t recognise the other, a blond, lanky boy. But judging by how Miranda was staring at the memory-boy, he was Raoul. 

“I like to think I’m an optimist, but there is no scientific background for this, dude,” the young Miranda said, shaking her head. “I mean, I  _ want _ it to, but…”

“See, this is why I’m the engineer,” Raoul retorted, “I’m not gonna back down from this.”

“And how’re you gonna get funded, genius?”

“Government, probably,” Raoul shrugged. 

“I’m not sure I like the idea of the government having a time machine,” she frowned. 

“Me neither, but who else is gonna fund a project to rescue Captain America and Sergeant Barnes from  _ death _ ?”

Steve looked at Miranda, who shifted self-consciously. 

“We were ambitious,” she offered halfheartedly as an explanation.

“‘Sides, it’s the only way to met them,” Raoul continued. “You can’t marry a war hero if he’s dead.”

“Don’t make this about me, you’re the one who’s hot for Captain America!”

“Not so loud, you jerk!” Raoul hissed, tackling a now giggling Miranda to the floor. 

“My mom’s not gonna care, Raoul,” Miranda assured him. “And my brother isn’t home, so he’s not gonna overhear anything.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean somebody  _ else _ isn’t gonna hear.”

“And you want to go back in time to the 1940s?” Miranda asked dryly, raising an eyebrow as the pair sat back up. 

“Well we’d bring them back,” Raoul muttered. “Space-time continuum and all.” Miranda nodded sagely. 

“Right, well, we should focus on our project,” Miranda redirected, straightening the papers and books on the floor. “Come on, research,” she ordered playfully, pointing to the open book in front of her friend as she turned back to her own. “I’m not doing the whole thing by myself.” 

“But you’re  _ so  _ much better at history,” Raoul groaned, dramatically falling backwards to slump against her bed. Miranda rolled her eyes and picked up her discarded notebook, resting it on her knee. 

“Fine, if you don’t want to do a project on the Howling Commandos, ask Mr. Morgan if you have time to change topics.”

“Ugh, that’s too much effort,” Raoul said, sitting back up and grabbing his own notebook. 

“Then you have your answer,” Miranda grinned, turning the page in her book as the memory began to fade away. The last thing to go was Raoul. 

“So, uh, that was that,” Miranda said awkwardly. She stared at her feet. “I think of both of you differently now that I know you, I promise. I’m not  _ that _ creepy anymore.”

“I can honestly say I’ve heard worse from people who should know better,” Steve said. “That’s how we got here in the first place.”

“Right,” Miranda replied, dragging the word out for a moment. “Anyway, you ever been to a college party?” she asked, bouncing with excitement to cover the lingering awkwardness. 

“I have a feeling that the ones I went to are nothing like what you’re about to show me.” Miranda laughed. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” she smiled, as the memory built itself around them. “But I warn you, it’ll get fuzzier as I got drunker. This is probably the only time I got drunk for fun and fun alone.”

The pair stood on the lawn of a frat house with an American flag draped on the side from one of the windows, and an instrumental version of the national anthem blaring out of the speakers. Miranda dragged Steve up onto the porch and into the house through the group in the front hall, who paid no attention to them. 

“So where are you in this?” Steve asked as the inched their way down the stairs to the basement. The staircase had become a bottleneck with people going up and down, and the heat was rising from the partiers below. 

“Uh, hold on,” Miranda replied, glancing around. “Oh, there! By the blonde with the flag painted on her cheek,” she said, pointing. “That’s my roommate, Stacy. Poor dear was the sober friend.”

Steve looked in the direction Miranda pointed, and quickly found her younger self. She didn’t look that much different than she did now, but her smile was more genuine and her eyes held more life in them than Steve had ever seen in the time he had known her. 

“How far into the party is this?” he asked after he watched her past self take a swig from her cup. He was beginning to wonder if it was the alcohol that made her look more relaxed and happy. 

“Uh, half hour? So I think that’s my second. I’m almost tipsy. Or maybe it was my third…” She cocked her head to the side, staring at the cup in her past self’s hand. After a moment, she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter really, the interesting part of this memory isn’t for awhile. I started it early,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the right, into the black light lit room. 

The music was thudding out of speakers, and the whole room felt like it was vibrating. It was invigorating and uncomfortable at the same time. Miranda lead Steve off to the side where there was a small hole in the crowd, and eagerly turned to the DJ, waiting for something. When the song changed, Miranda turned toward him with a huge grin, and sang along with the rest of the crowd at the top of her lungs.

_ A long, long time ago _

_ I can still remember how  _

_ That music used to make me smile _

_ And I knew if I had the chance, _

_ That I could make those people dance, _

_ And maybe, they’d be happy for awhile…. _

She started bobbing along to the beat, enjoying herself. Some of the lyrics she sang at Steve, but for the most part, she just sang aloud. It was like when she had sung along to Christmas carols on the radio. 

“Come on, Steve, dance!” she prodded, grabbing his hands and lifting their arms up and down to the beat. Steve smiled and tried to follow along.

_ Bye, bye, Miss American Pie _

_ Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry _

_ Them good ole boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye _

_ And singin’ “This’ll be the day that I die. _

_ This’ll be the day that I die.” _

When the song was over, Miranda looked almost like her past self, though her cheeks weren’t as flushed. She waved for Steve to follow her as she followed herself past the stairs and into the other room. The bright fluorescent lights were a surprising contrast to the black lights, but the air was ever so slightly cooler, and it was less crowded. 

“This is when things’ll get entertaining,” she said. “Embarrassing, too, but,” she shrugged. She wove her way through to stand by the couch that past Miranda had sunk down onto, her head resting on Stacy’s shoulder. 

“Stacy, did anybody ever tell you you’re pretty? ‘Cause you are,” Miranda said, her words slurring ever so slightly. Stacy bit back a laugh, like this happened often, but was funny every time. 

“No,” Stacy replied dryly, “nobody’s ever told me.”

“That’s a shame,” Miranda said, indignant. “Maybe people’re just intimidated by how pretty you are.”

“Maybe. You’re not kissing me, though, no matter how much you butter me up.”

“Damn,” Miranda whispered. 

“I really wish you could still get drunk, this is adorable,” Steve laughed. Miranda punched his arm, shooting him a half-hearted glare. 

“Harper!” squealed the drunk Miranda, getting to her feet to hug her friend. “Ooo, too fast,” she muttered, sitting back down. Harper leaned down to hug her. “Where’d you go? We lost you.”

“I was chatting up the guy dressed up like Captain America,” Harper replied. “You sent me after him.”

“Did I?” Miranda tilted her head to the side, trying to remember. 

“Yeah, you did. Stace, how many has she had? I’ve had five and I’m fairly coherent.”

“She’s had five, too, just… faster. That’s why she’s got a water now,” Stacy answered, handing Miranda her water bottle when she couldn’t find it. 

“You’re the best,” Miranda grinned as she took the bottle. “So, Harper, how’s the captain-guy?” 

“Cute, friendly, in my phone,” she grinned, waving the device before shoving it back in her pocket. 

“How cute?” Miranda asked, taking a sip of water. 

“Like cuter than the real Cap cute.”

“Pfft, no way. Not possible. Only one person has ever been cuter than Rogers and that was Barnes.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. Rogers was the hottest Howling Commando.”

“Nope, it was definitely Barnes. Rogers technically wasn’t a Commando. ‘Cause it’s ‘Captain America and his Howling Commandos.’ So, the hottest Commando is therefore Barnes.”

“But Rogers is still better looking than Barnes,” Harper insisted. 

“Why am I friends with history majors?” Stacy asked no one in particular. “I’m in business.” Said friends kept arguing, not paying attention to Stacy’s amused comments. 

Miranda got to her feet and the two budding historians were standing face-to-face, continuing the debate the topic. A tall brunet wove through the crowd and wrapped his arms around Miranda’s waist, chin resting on her shoulder. He listened to them for a moment before interrupting:

“Ladies, please, you’re both wrong here. Clearly,  _ I’m  _ the sexiest Howling Commando,” he said before howling like a wolf. The girls paused, then burst into laughter.

“Aw, come on, this was the most entertaining your girlfriend has ever been while drunk,” Stacy whined. 

“I couldn’t resist, the timing was perfect,” the guy replied. Both versions of Miranda rolled their eyes, though the current one seemed more disgusted than amused. 

“I take it you two didn’t end well,” Steve commented as the memory faded away. 

“No, we didn’t,” Miranda replied sharply. “We’d been together almost a year, so I thought it was safe to open up about something personal. I was wrong.” 

“If it’s any consolation, your reaction makes me want to punch him.”

“You want to punch everyone, Steve.” 

“No I don’t.” Miranda raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “I don’t want to punch kids!” They both started laughing. 

“Okay, so not everyone,” Miranda laughed. “I already punched him though, so,” she shrugged, “I’m over it.” She chewed on her cheek for a moment, her demeanor growing serious again. “Before we go any farther, uh, I need you to tell me, I mean, if you’re uncomfortable, we can stop,” she rambled. “The next memory is the point of no return, and I’m embarrassed as all hell, so you’re probably really weirded out, and it only gets worse from here.”

“If you don’t think you can do it, you don’t have to,” Steve assured her, bypassing her request. 

“Steve, are you uncomfortable?” she demanded, jabbing him in the chest. “I want you to know this, at the risk of ruining our friendship. I get it if you’re creeped out and never want to talk to me again, but for god’s sake just say so!” She was practically shouting by the end. “I admire the fuck outta you, and I always have. But I know that some of this is creepy stalker shit! My best friend and I were practically planning on  _ kidnapping  _ you for fuck’s sake! So please, for the love of all that is holy, just tell me that you hate me now, before I make an even bigger fool of myself,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper for the last sentence. 

Steve watched as she shrank in on herself, her eyes betraying the her inner turmoil, but they remained locked on his own. He had to admit, it  _ was _ creepy, but she had grown up, matured. She knew better now, but she still trusted him enough that she shared it with him. But it was pretty obvious that she was sharing so he would hate her, to confirm some fear of hers. 

But this was confirming a worry of his own. A few days before, on one of the few occasions that the Avengers were all in the common area but Miranda wasn’t, he’d brought it up to the group: 

_ ‘We all know that Miranda knows our nightmares, but does anyone have any idea what hers are?’ he’d asked. The others glanced around, looking to the others for help. Even Thor (whom they had filled in) was at a loss. ‘She’s got to deal with all of ours on top of her own, and we don’t even know what is so bad she reaches out to us for help in the first place.’ _

_ ‘She hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with information that she thinks would hurt someone,’ Natasha said. ‘Miranda wants to protect as many people as she can, no matter the cost. She’s like you that way.’ _

_ ‘Great, so she can join the club of self-sacrificing heroes with nightmares,’ Tony quipped.  _

_ ‘So what do we do? Andy isn’t gonna just open up to us if we stage an intervention,’ Clint said. ‘I can’t imagine that that would go over well.’ _

_ ‘Then we let her join the club,’ Bruce suggested after thinking about it intensely.  _

_ ‘My sister is strong. She trained for a time with both my mother and Lady Sif,’ Thor vouched. _

_ ‘And I’ve been working with her. She’s better than she gives herself credit for. I think Barnes worked with her,’ Natasha added. ‘Fighting techniques are almost like a fingerprint.’ _

_ ‘So she’s qualified. How is that going to help us help her?’ Steve asked.  _

_ ‘Maybe if she’s part of the team, she’ll open up more,’ Bruce said. ‘We share more with each other now than we did even a year ago.’ _

_ ‘If she feels less like an outsider, she’ll probably open up,” Natasha said. ‘At least to someone,’ she added, give Steve a pointed look.  _

_ ‘That’s how it worked for you anyway,’ Clint said. Natasha kicked him lightly. ‘What? You are way more private than she is, and you’ve opened up a lot since I met you.’ _

_ ‘Fair enough,’ Natasha sighed. ‘But she might try to push us away instead.’ _

_ ‘So are we adding her to the roster or what?’ Tony asked.  _

In the present, Steve had a feeling Natasha was right. This was Miranda trying to push them away-- and she was starting with him. 

“Well?” Miranda demanded, her voice fragile. “You got something to tell me?”

“I don’t hate you,” he replied calmly. 

“You will.  After this, you will,” she said definitively as the next memory began to grow around them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics and chapter title are from "American Pie" by Don McLean (don't confuse it with the movie!).   
> The next chapter will be the last memory chapter.   
> Thanks for reading! xo


	7. It's a Love/Hate Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said I wouldn't have time to update cause college? Apparently I was wrong.

She knew the halls of Versailles better than her own face-- the details here were sharper and clearer than they had been anywhere else. The gold accents and decorations shone brightly in the sunlight that streamed through the massive windows in warm, inviting rays. 

The memory Miranda had thrown herself down on one of the couches that was in the sun. One leg was carelessly thrown over the armrest, and the other was hanging off the edge. Her hair was spread out beneath her head, creating an auburn halo. She looked bored more than anything. Her head popped up in response to a knock on the door. She quickly shifted into a more formal position, smoothing out her hair and dress as she called out,

“Enter.”

The door opened to reveal Loki-- at whose appearance both Mirandas stiffened with a sharp but almost imperceptible inhale-- and another man, the Winter Soldier, in full tactical gear. 

“My lady, this is the additional security I promised you,” Loki told her, closing the door. “He will be your shadow until the extra precaution is no longer needed.”

“This doesn’t matter,” Miranda muttered irritably, waving her hand. The memory sped up, its characters moving forward in jerky movements. Loki left after a brief conversation, and Miranda approached Bucky, a bit cautiously, and removed his mask and goggles, revealing his face. She clearly recognised him, doubted herself, then decided she was right. She started laughing, and that was when the memory began to play in real time. 

“Who the hell is that?” Bucky asked. Miranda jumped. 

“That’s you silly. What, don’t you recognise your own name? You don’t recognise your own name,” she realised.

“I don’t have a name.” Steve’s jaw and fists clenched at that. 

“Yes, you do. You’re James Buchanan Barnes, from Brooklyn,” she told him earnestly. “You don’t remember.”

“I would seem so, ma’am.”

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me. I’m Andy. And I’m gonna help you remember.” 

The memory shifted, warped, and reformed before Steve could say anything. The lighting changed as the sunshine was replaced by rainclouds, the soft patter of rain hitting the glass. The fire crackled warmly in the fireplace. Bucky sat stiffly on one of the couches, and Miranda was curled up on the floor next to him, a book of poetry in her lap. 

“How can I, that girl standing there,” she read, her voice melodic and calm, 

“My attention fix

On Roman or on Russian

Or on Spanish politics,

Yet here’s a travelled man that knows

What he talks about,

And there’s a politician

That has both read and thought,

And maybe what they say is true

Of war and war’s alarms,

But O that I were young again

And held her in my arms.” 

She finished the poem and closed the book gently, her eyes focusing on a glass bottle resting on the table in a gift box. She jumped up suddenly and gracefully leapt towards the table, blushing and apologising when she realised she had startled her companion. She offered him a drink casually.

“I shouldn’t. I have a mission.” 

“Your mission if my safety, right?” she asked, the hint of a challenge in her voice as she poured two glasses of the liquor. “And in the nearly two months that you’ve been here, has my safety been threatened? No.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky retorted. 

“Me tripping and nearly falling down the stairs doesn’t count,” she smirked.

“Yes it does. You could have gotten hurt.” Steve noticed the all-too-familiar tone of stubborn concern.  Bucky had always been protective, and it seemed like nothing could change that, not even Hydra brain-washing.

“But I didn’t,” Miranda countered, offering him one of the glasses. “So my safety is managed. Therefore, you don’t have a mission to worry about. Besides, one drink won’t hurt anything. And if it’s bad I want to be able to laugh at your reaction while you laugh at mine.” He grudgingly took the glass from her, and she smiled victoriously.

“Your neck,” he muttered.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “Shall we toast?” she asked, raising her glass. He returned the gesture. “To surviving another year.” They toasted, and Miranda laughed-- a true, genuine laugh, something Steve wasn’t sure he had ever heard from her-- as James choked.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Well I like it,” she giggled, taking his glass back. “I guess I’ll just have to drink alone,” she sighed dramatically. “Thanks for trying, soldier,” she teased. For what seemed like the hundredth time, Steve was reminded of the girls from the war. 

“I need to be sober anyway, Andy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving her hand as she plopped down in a chair for a moment before getting up and bouncing to the radio. She skipped around, searching for a station. Once she found what she was looking her, she turned expectantly to Bucky.

“Are you expecting me to remember after just a few chords?”

“Well, no, but a girl can dream,” she pouted, returning the her seat. 

The memory sped forward, the details growing fuzzy in the same way that the party had. Miranda was drunk. The details came roaring back, the music from the radio coming back so suddenly that Steve jumped.

“Hey, soldier, wanna dance?” Miranda asked, going over to Bucky and pulling him up from his seat. 

“I thought I was supposed to ask a gal to dance.”

“Been waitin’ all night, James. Decided to take the initiative, if you don’t mind, Sarge.”

“I don’t,” he replied as they began to dance. Bucky had the same grace and ease that Steve had been so jealous of when they were younger. The pair of them moved as one, only tripping up slightly since Miranda was drunk. 

“Sorry,” she giggled after she stepped on his foot.

“It’s alright, doll,” he replied. “At least you don’t have two left feet,” he teased. Steve rolled his eyes, remembering the times that Bucky had tried-- and failed-- to teach Steve how to dance. 

“I’m usually more coordinated,” she muttered.

“You’re drunk, doll.”

“I only had two,” she retorted, indignant. 

“Yeah, and that stuff is 40 percent alcohol. You’re small, and that stuff is strong.”

“You sayin’ I can hold my liquor, Sarge?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying you’re drunk.” She huffed, and he laughed. Steve smiled, the ghosts of memories flitting around his own mind. He couldn’t figure out what Miranda was trying to do-- she wanted him to hate her, but there wasn’t anything about any of this that could do that. 

The song changed to something slow, and Miranda leaned her head on Bucky’s chest as they danced. As the final notes of the song faded away, the dancers looked at each other. The mood had taken a turn in the last few minutes, and Steve saw the kiss coming before it happened-- hadn’t he seen the same thing from the sidelines in far too many dance halls?

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him when he realised that this was what was supposed to make him hate her. 

“You wanted to know what happened the last time I got drunk. This was it,” she said simply, anger and humiliation coloring her words. “I told you you would hate me,” she added, misreading the expression on his face. 

“I don’t hate you, Andy.”

“You should.”

“I don’t.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words as the memory faded away, being replaced by a rapid-fire montage of the months she had spent with him. 

There were hours upon hours of conversation, training, and planning. Bits and pieces floated through with brilliant clarity, mostly out-of-order. 

“We’re getting out of here,” Miranda promised. “Together.”

“I remember,” Bucky said slowly, a different memory now. Miranda’s pride in him made that memory warm. 

“No, I still want to get out of here,” she insisted, a new memory. They were arguing.

“We can’t go now, you could miscarry!”

“And you think I give a damn?”

Another memory, and she was lying on her back in the sun, humming softly.

“What are you humming? Is it a song?” Bucky asked, cutting her off. 

“Yeah, it’s from ‘Phantom of the Opera.’ The Palais Garnier was the setting, so it’s just been stuck in my head.”

“Could you sing it?” Miranda blushed, but sang anyway.

“ _ Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the words and I will follow you… _ ” Her voice faded away as the memory flashed past, being replaced by another and another. Everything slowed around one last moment. 

“I’m going to tell you something, and I’ll translate it later. It’s my promise that I won’t die or something,” Miranda said with a weak smile. “Remember this: Jeg elsker deg, James. Hvis bare jeg var i stand til å handle på det.”

“That’s a little long,” Bucky teased, light-hearted and so close to his old self it hurt Steve to see how far he’d come from the blank slate Bucky had been when Miranda met him.

“Then just three words. Just remember: Jeg elsker deg. Can you do that?” she asked. Bucky nodded. Neither of them needed a translator to guess at what she had told him. 

The whirlwind of memory stopped abruptly after that, leaving Steve a little dizzy. Miranda stood in front of him in the empty nothingness, her expression somewhere between guilt and ‘I-told-you-so.’ 

Steve didn’t have anything better than: “I don’t hate you.”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

“Andy, a few hours ago, you asked me to be your best guy, and now you’re asking me to hate you. I can’t do that. You’re my friend, and do you really think you’re the first one to fall in love with Bucky and feel guilty about it? Why are you suddenly hellbent on getting me to hate you? I don’t and I won’t.” Miranda shifted her gaze, not settling on any one spot for a minute before answering him. 

“Because I… My nightmares feel real, and in the back of my head, I just, I  _ know _ that you hate me. I  _ know _ you do, the same way I know that gravity keeps us on Earth.”

“You’re wrong though; you know that, right?”

“It’s hard to believe,” she admitted, curling in on herself again. Slowly, the nothingness was replaced by her living room. She was taking him back to reality. 

He grabbed her wrist when she tried to get up from the couch.

“Andy, wait.” She paused, then sank back down on the cushion. “Before all this, you asked me to promise that I wouldn’t hate you after. Is that why?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t hate you. You know I’m not lying, I’m terrible at it.”

“You are,” she mumbled. 

“You fell in love with Bucky, so what? You’re not the first.”

“I took advantage of him.”

“From what I saw, he kissed you back.” Miranda blushed and pulled her knees in closer to her chest. 

“No he didn’t,” she protested, though the very idea of it put a tiny smile on her face. 

“I saw him kiss enough girls, I think I know what I’m talking about.” Miranda turned redder and hid her face behind her arms. 

“That makes me feel slightly less dirty,” came her muffled reply. 

“So, was that everything? Or are you going to hate me for not hating you?” Steve teased.

“That’s it. You’re still an ass,” she answered, seeming more like herself as she threw a decorative pillow at his head. “But thank you. For being my friend.”

“Come ‘ere,” he waved, pulling her into a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, a shiver running down her spine. He squeezed gently, and she squeezed back. When they seperated, Steve saw the clock out of the corner of his eye. He had to double-take to make sure he wasn’t wrong. “All that took less than twenty minutes?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Miranda said, tucking her still-curled hair behind her ear. She didn’t move back to the other end of the couch. “Time is kinda meaningless. It’s just how we understand the progression of the universe. And memories are really flexible in the time department. Briefing all of you in the first place would have a lot easier if I had known I could control how much I share.” 

“It certainly is a handy trick.” The silence stretched between them for a moment. “It’s late, I should probably go. Get some sleep.”

“Yeah. You too,” Miranda smiled. She leaned over the back of the couch to watch him leave, waving back as the elevator doors closed. 

_ He’s a better actor than you gave him credit for _ . She rubbed her eyes, trying to ignore it. She shivered, jerking away when she felt his fingers trail down her arm. 

“You’re not real,” she growled. “And you’re a goddamn liar, Laufeyson.” 

_ Am I? _ he asked. Miranda took a deep breath, and answered, knowing for the first time in months that she was right and he was wrong:

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poem: "Politics" by William Butler Yeats (1939)  
> Song: "All I Ask of You" from Phantom of the Opera (because in fact that is the setting)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.


	8. Family Ties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass and that's why it took so long. Shout out to my friend Ethan for helping me stay motivated to write!

Miranda pulled up to the curb and parked. She checked the address she had scribbled down earlier that morning for the fifth time. Her uncle wouldn’t have given her a false address, she knew that, but she also had a hard time believing that she was supposed to met him at a bar. There was no way that they wouldn’t be eavesdropped on in public space like that. 

But that address was the same as it had been all morning, and it matched the bar’s address. She got out of the car and shook out her nerves as she moved to get Ben out of the back seat. 

“Come on little man,” she mumbled as she picked him up. “Let’s go introduce you, huh?” She shifted his weight on her hip as she closed the car door and made sure it was locked. “I look like a great mother,” she muttered sarcastically as she opened the bar door. The bell chimed softly overhead. 

“Welcome,” called the bartender. “Can I get you something?”

“No thanks. I’m meeting someone,” she replied.

“Ah, yeah. He’s in the back,” the bartender said, pointing to one of the large half-circle booths. Miranda nodded and thanked him as she passed by. 

“You found it,” her uncle greeted, getting up from the booth. 

“Yeah. It’s a bit of an unusual location,” she teased lightly, hugging him with her free arm. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s been too long.”

“Yeah, but I’ll let you off with a warning since you died,” she joked as she slid into the booth. Ben immediately tried to scoot across the table to say hello. “Ben, baby,” she scolded gently, pulling him back into her arms before shifting him around sit on her lap. “He wants to say hi.”

“He’s more social than you were,” Phil said, leaning over so his face was level with Ben’s. Ben reached out to grab his face. 

“Ben, don’t grab his face, silly goose,” Miranda giggled. “That’s your Uncle Phil.”

“Hey there buddy. It’s nice to meet you in person,” Phil cooed, shaking the little boy’s outstretched hand before sitting back up. “I suppose it’s better if we get the business part of this visit done first. We wouldn’t want the Avengers to miss you too much. Hill tells me you’ve managed to pull them tighter together.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Miranda said, settling into business mode with her uncle. “But, the longer I’m gone, the more likely they are too worry.”

“Then hold tight. You might wanna buckle up.”

“What?” Miranda’s brow furrowed as her uncle pulled out seatbelts from the crevasse between the booth’s cushions. She quickly did the same, however, as the booth began to descend through the floor. “Somehow, I’m not surprised,” she sighed. Phil just smiled. 

“Ready to meet the team?” he asked as the booth came to a halt at the bottom of the elevator shaft. 

“Of course,” she answered. They scooted out of booth, and Miranda’s jaw dropped. “This is an original SSR base,” she whispered in awe. She gently ran her fingers over the brick walls. 

“It is. Peggy Carter herself oversaw the construction in 1949,” he told her, reciting the fact with the kind of investment only historians have.

“That’s amazing,” Miranda replied, taking in almost every individual brick in the walls. 

“So this is your niece I take it?” called a young woman from down the hall. 

“What gave it away?” Phil sassed as she approached. 

“You’re both  _ way  _ too invested in the brickwork,” she sassed back. Phil chuckled before making introductions. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Agent Johnson,” Miranda smiled. 

“I’m just excited to finally meet you in person. And Daisy is fine.” Miranda nodded. “Coulson hasn’t stopped talking about you since you called,” Daisy teased. 

“Oh god, I hope not,” Miranda laughed. 

“I think we’re all lucky he didn’t have baby photos.” 

“Come on, Daisy, it wasn’t that much,” Phil protested. 

“Don’t lie to yourself, Phil,” Melinda said, approaching the group. “Miss Douglas, you’re looking well.”

“As are you, Agent May. I thought you wanted to return to desk work.”

“Things change.”

“That they do.” 

Phil began to show her around the base, introducing her to the rest of the team as they went. Miranda allowed Simmons to take blood samples from both her and Ben while they were in the lab for testing.

“You have good people here,” Miranda said as her uncle closed the door to his office. 

“Many of them were hand-picked before things went to hell. They’re all loyal, and good agents to boot.”

“I expect nothing less, not with you at the helm.”

“I’m flattered, but we should get to business. You mentioned T.A.H.I.T.I. when we spoke before.”

“Yeah. Hydra apparently pumped me full of it to stabilize Extremis. I’m guessing it’s a lot more complicated than a funny acronym and science fiction turned fact.”

“You could say that. Have you been paying attention to the news lately?”

“Is this connected to the Inhumans?”

“In a way. They are descendents of the Cree, an alien race. The serum part of the  T.A.H.I.T.I. program was derived from Cree blood.”

“But the program wasn’t about making Inhumans, was it?”

“We didn’t even know they existed until about a year ago. The program was a top secret science project that I oversaw before New York.”

“Before you died?” He nodded. “What  _ was  _ it supposed to do?”

“It was meant to be a regenerative project in case of a fallen Avenger.”

“Regenerative? Or resurrective? SHIELD was trying to bring people back from the dead?!”

“That was the idea. The program had its consequences,” he stressed, rubbing his wrist.

“Which you know first hand, don’t you.” Miranda rubbed her eyes. “Okay cool. So what are the risks here? I’ve got three volatile serums pumping through my veins, and my son probably does too on top of being only half-human. What’s gonna happen when the other shoe drops?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

*****

Miranda had zoned out after she pulled into the garage under the tower, running on autopilot from when she turned the car off to when she stepped out of the elevator. She blinked, realizing she was on the communal floor rather than her own. It smelled like Chinese takeout, and she could hear the Avengers chattering in the other room, her adoptive brother’s laughter booming over everyone else. 

“Oh, good, you’re back. Nat put in your order, so blame her if it’s wrong. It’s in the microwave, but it shouldn’t be cold yet,” Bruce greeted, passing by her to get on the elevator. The doors closed before Miranda could put together the words to ask him where he was going (the lab, most likely, but it was still polite to ask). 

She shook her head to push aside the countless scenarios and schemes that the afternoon had created. Shifting Ben’s weight on her hip, she headed towards the kitchen because as tired as she was, she was hungry. And it’s not like she was hiding anything horrible, so she didn’t need to slink around in the shadows, avoiding everyone (not that she didn’t anyway). 

Ben woke up as Miranda buckled him into his highchair. He made a quiet whining noise before his little head lolled to the side and he fell asleep again. Miranda smiled fondly, watching him sleep for a moment before retrieving her food from the microwave.(Natasha, somehow, had guessed right.) She decided to sit at the island and eat so she could keep an eye on Ben while he slept. He wouldn’t be able to if she took him into the boisterous dining room. 

“When did you get back?” Steve asked, setting the stack of dishes in the sink. 

“Not too long ago, maybe twenty minutes.” Steve nodded. “I just went out, met up with someone I haven’t seen in forever. We lost track of time, no need to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“Riiiight. That’s why you’re totally not doing your ‘worried-parent’ thing,” Miranda drawled sarcastically. “It’s okay, I get it. I worry about you guys, too, but at least I have a good reason,” she teased. 

“You’ve been kidnapped twice, can you really blame me for worrying? Especially after--” he gestured aimlessly to fill in for words. 

“No, I guess I can’t,” she replied, her gaze dropping back down to her food. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Miranda asked, changing the subject. 

“We found another Hydra base. We’ll be flying out early.”

“Have you found the scepter yet?”

“We think it’s there. It’s rumored to be, anyway.” Miranda nodded. 

“Guess I’ll have something to worry about,” she joked, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Dr. Cho will be on call then?”

“Yeah.” 

“How’s Sam doing?”

“He’s looking. Nothing solid yet.”

“And how much sand is on the floor downstairs?” Steve hung his head. “That much. You should probably spar with someone instead.”

“Are you volunteering?” Steve asked, half-joking. 

“Maybe. It’s not like I’m made of glass, and I’m certainly not full of sand. Soon as you’re back and Dr. Cho has cleared you, I’m gonna kick your ass, Rogers,” Miranda challenged. 

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm. I’ve been trained by Russia’s two foremost assassins and a Viking warrior goddess. I think I can take on a back alley punching bag.”

“That’s low.”

“Is it though? Or are you just too short?”

“You never knew me when I was short!” Steve objected. 

“So? If Bucky was here he’d be giving you shit,” Miranda defended. “There’s a space that needs filling.”

“And what’s that?”

“Someone to give you shit about things like  _ wearing a parachute _ . Yeah, Nat told me about that one. And I’ll tell Bucky if it comes down to it, but I think we both know you don’t want that.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“To make you have some level of self-preservation? Yeah, I am,” she laughed. “Somebody’s gotta keep you in check.” 

“And you’ve picked it up as your job, huh?” Steve asked, resting his arms on the island opposite her. 

“Mhm. Do you prefer I use blackmail or a leash?”

“Aaand that is something I can never un-imagine,” Tony interrupted before turning on his heel and promptly leaving the kitchen. Miranda frowned for a moment before turning bright red.

“Tony, no!” she called after him. “Don’t be weird!”

“I’m missing something here,” Steve commented, raising an eyebrow. 

“I am  _ not _ explaining that to you. I will preserve your innocence.” She chewed her lip for a moment, considering something. “Steve, um, are you going to, I mean… ugh.” She hung her head. “Are you going to church on Sunday?”

“Yeah. You know I always go.”

“Um, I was wondering… Would it be okay if Ben and I go with you?” she asked, stumbling over her words. 

“Yeah, yeah, if you want.” She smiled.

“Thanks. You go to the early service, right?”

“Yeah, at eight.” She nodded. “May I ask why?”

“Sure. Uh, I was raised Lutheran, not Catholic, but I miss church. The motions, the community. I feel like it might help, to have that again,” she shrugged. 

“It’s helped me some,” Steve said. “You can come with whenever you want.” 

           “Thanks. We'll see if I take you up on that offer.” Miranda put away her leftovers before gently picking Ben up. “I'm gonna put this little guy to bed. Get some rest, you're gonna have a long day tomorrow,” she instructed, patting Steve on the shoulder as she left. 


	9. The Truth Hurts, Doesn't It?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for blood, self harm, and mention of abortion

It was a false lead, taking them straight into an ambush — but luckily they got a heads-up at the last minute, just enough time to react accordingly. That doesn’t mean things went well, though. They bandaged each other up as best they could, relieved that Clint’s cracked ribs were the worst of it. 

Back at the tower, a plate of their favorite cookies was waiting for them on each of their floors. Clint badgered Natasha into getting his for him while Dr. Cho worked her magic. Natasha sat in the room with him, keeping him distracted so that he wouldn’t move too much and mess up the procedure. 

“The safe house and their new identities are put together,” Natasha began, “so why haven’t we told anyone?”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to put her in the public eye by having her date Steve. Kinda hard for her to drop off the face of the Earth now.” He paused. “Where is she, anyway?” When Natasha shrugged, he directed his question towards Jarvis. 

“ _ Miss Douglas is in the gym, sparring with Captain Rogers. _ ”

“Well that’s different. Steve’s sparring with someone other than Thor or his demons.” Natasha held back a laugh. 

“They fit together well,” Natasha commented. 

“Don’t be all smug about it, Nat, you know they’re not ready. Specially Andy. She’s not like you, she can’t compartmentalize her feelings.”

“I know. After watching the interviews from the gala, I realized that I pushed too hard.”

“Did you actually just admit you were wrong about something?” Clint grinned, feigning shock. Natasha rolled her eyes and gently punched his leg. 

*****

Later, when Natasha woke up from yet another nightmare and decided to give up on sleep, for some reason, the first thing she did after she calmed down was ask Jarvis how Miranda was doing. 

“ _ Miss Douglas is in the gym, Agent Romanoff. She appears to be in a state of duress and is not responding, _ ” the AI told her. He sounded  _ worried _ .

Natasha headed down to the gym as quickly as possible. Over the past several months, she had come to respect Miranda — she knew all too well what is was like to try to put yourself together with pieces from different puzzles. And then she had pushed too hard and too fast for her and Steve to be together. Natasha didn’t feel guilty about anything, but  _ this  _ — whatever it was she was feeling — was pretty damn close.

Natasha heard the swift  _ thump thump  _ of hits on a punching bag before she even opened the door to the gym. Miranda was standing in front of a swaying punching bag in a solid boxer’s stance, like she had been so long ago when Natasha first challenged her. 

But this time, it was different. The wraps on her hands were stained bright red. Natasha ran over and grabbed Miranda’s wrists to get her to stop. That was when she noticed the bandage on Miranda’s left forearm. It was red, too. And there were red smears on the punching bag, which was still swaying gently.

“How long have you been down here?” she asked. 

“Not long enough,” Miranda replied, ripping her wrists out of Natasha’s grasp and going through her combinations again. 

“Stop, stop,” Natasha ordered, grabbing her wrists again. This time she stood between Miranda and the punching bag. “Miranda — Andy, you’re bleeding. Stop. How long have you been down here?” she repeated. Miranda glared at her, the hurt barely hidden in her eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How long.”

“An hour or two. Maybe longer,” she admitted. She flexed her fingers. She hissed at the pain. “It usually doesn’t hurt so much…” 

“How often does this happen?” Natasha asked, not even bothering to hide her concern.

“Dunno, I never really remember, ‘cause it’s healed by morning.” Natasha swore under her breath. Miranda sounded exhausted and numb  — how had they let it get this bad? 

She lead her over to one of the benches and ordered her to stay put while she got the first aid kit off the wall. She gently peeled away Miranda’s wraps, and chose not to comment on the aging blood stains. Miranda hissed softly when the fabric pulled out of her skin, and again when Natasha sanitized the broken skin. Only once her hands were bandaged did Natasha ask about the bandage on her arm. 

“I scratched it, ‘s all,” Miranda told her. She wasn’t telling the full truth, Natasha could tell.

“With what?” she inquired, gently peeling the bandage away to replace it with a clean one if necessary. A series of fading red scratches criss-crossed over the pale scar of the brand. “What did you scratch yourself with?” She looked up a Miranda, who was resolutely staring off to the side. “Andy, what did you scratch yourself with?” Natasha asked again, more forcefully. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. Thank you for the bandages.” She got up to leave, but Natasha was faster, gently putting her hands on her shoulders to stop her. “Nat, please.”

“Andy,” Natasha said softly, trying to get the younger woman to look her in the eye. She watched a tear roll down Miranda’s cheek before she sobbed.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Well fuck.

Contrary to popular belief, while Natasha was not stone-hearted, she was not good at comforting people. She only was able to calm the Hulk down because she had memorized children’s lullabies from being at the Bartons’ so much. She was not the maternal type. (Whether she wasn’t or learned to not be was up for debate.) 

But she was the one who was here, and Miranda was sobbing, apologising  _ to Natasha _ for hurting  _ herself _ . She had to do something. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she soothed, wrapping her arms around Miranda. Miranda squeezed back, like she was holding on for dear life. After a moment, Natasha heard her whisper:

“Oh thank god, you’re  _ real _ .”

“What?” Natasha gasped, pulling back to look her in the eye.She knew that Miranda sometimes accidently stole their nightmares, but  _ this _ , this was far worse than anything she could have imagined. Because she was certain Miranda just admitted she had hallucinations on accident.  _ Frequent _ hallucinations. 

“Huh?” 

“Miranda, do you have hallucinations?” she asked seriously. 

“Oh, that. I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“No, you didn’t. Until just now.”

“Really? I coulda swore I told you ages ago.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Fuck, that wasn’t real,” Miranda groaned. “Shit, I thought I  — fuck what else do I think — goddamn it, I can’t believe I —”

“Slow down, take a breath,” Natasha instructed, gently guiding them both to sit on the bench. Miranda took a few deep breaths, staring at the floor. It was clear her world was spinning off its axis now. 

“I honestly thought I told you. All of you,” Miranda told her, looking her dead in the eye for the first time that night. “But it was just another —” her voice cracked and she started crying again. Natasha rubbed circles on her back (hey if it worked for Cooper and Lila…). 

“Come on, you need to get some sleep.”

“I tried that already, why do you think I’m down here?” Miranda laughed. It was forced and watery. 

“Try again. Let yourself heal.” Miranda sighed, but pushed off the bench and followed Natasha to the elevator. 

*****

The next morning, the bandages were gone (though her forearm was hidden beneath her white cardigan) and Miranda looked bright and happy, as always. But now, now Natasha could see the cracks, the facade that was barely holding up. God, how had she not seen it before? Or maybe she just wasn’t hiding it as much anymore. 

Natasha talked to Clint while Steve and Miranda were at mass.

“She what?”

“That’s not even the worst of it, Clint,” Natasha said, showing him Miranda’s hand wraps. “Look.” 

“Christ,” Clint swore under his breath, taking them into his own hands. The once-white wraps were mottled, darker on the portions that actually had touched her skin. 

“I pulled together a list of therapists. I’m in the process of running background checks on all of the candidates.”

“She’s not gonna go if you make an appointment for her.”

“I know. I’ll give her the list later, but for now, I want you to bring it up.”

“What?” Clint yelped. “Why me?”

“Cause you’re a dad, you’ll be gentler about it. She trusts you, she’d listen to you. If she’s stubborn you can pull the parent card or something.” Clint mulled the idea over, playing with the wraps in his hands. 

“Okay. I’ll talk to her after Jane and Darcy leave tomorrow.”

*****

“Come on, Ben, let’s go,” Darcy whispered, scooping the toddler into ther arms. She quickly scurried towards the elevator, and Ben giggled in her arms. “Shh! You’re gonna give us away.”

“Give what away?” Miranda asked, coming around the corner with Thor to see them off.

“Nothing!”

“Darcy, are you trying to steal my son?” Miranda chuckled.

“Maybe…” Ben giggled, nodding profusely. The three adults soon joined in, and Miranda let Darcy hold Ben until they got to the lobby. “You sure he can’t come with us?” Darcy asked with puppy eyes.

“I’m sure,” Miranda laughed, taking him back. “I’m gonna have to keep him here.”

“Aw, darn,” she pouted. Then final goodbyes were made and Jane and Darcy walked out to their taxi. 

*****

Miranda frowned, holding the spoon out towards Ben again, who shied away, shaking his head. She tried the airplane trick, then the train, then just straight up pleading. Ben was hungry. They both knew he was hungry. They also both knew he wasn’t eating because he missed Darcy. They also were both stubborn as hell. 

“Clint, if you have any wisdom to impart on me, now would be a great time,” Miranda said drily, turning to look at him leaning on the door frame.

“I might, but uh, not about this. I missed a lot more than I wanted to,” he admitted. Miranda hummed, nodding. 

“Ben, come on, you love applesauce.” He shook his head. “Ben, you need to eat.”

“And you need to talk to someone,” Clint interjected, leaning on the counter after getting mug of coffee. He didn’t miss the sudden stiffness in Miranda’s shoulders.

“So Nat told you about the other night, huh.”

“I gotta say, it takes a lot for Nat to get worried.”

“I don’t need your pity, Clint. I’ve got it under control.” 

“No, see, the thing is, you don’t. Something’s got you so riled up that you are punching things until you bleed and then you keep going.”

“I heal fast, it’s fine,” Miranda insisted, setting down the spoon and applesauce down. 

“And the hallucinations just go away too?” Clint demanded. Miranda took a deep breath before rising and turning around to face Clint. 

“I’ve got it under control.”

“Nat gave me a different impression. Andy, what if something happened to Ben?”

“I’d never hurt him. Never. Not anymore.”

“Anymore?” Miranda paled, and then looked ashamed. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I swear! I only ever  _ thought _ about it. It was before he was born, don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t ready to be a mother, I didn’t want to be the mother of Loki’s child, I wanted to run away and Bucky and I we were going to and then I got pregnant and Bucky refused because it was too dangerous andmaybeIalmostdidsomethingrashbutthenLokifoundout —” 

“Woah, woah calm down, shhh,” Clint soothed, hugging her close. 

“Nat made a—a list, right?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. “Seems like something she would do.”

“Yeah, kid, she did.” 

“I think I need it,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Happy comment season!


	10. One Small Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fluff to make up for the last chapter being very sad. The next chapter is also going to be really emotional, so fluff break!

Ben giggled, ramming the sit-to-stand rolling toy into the back of the couch again and again. Miranda watched him for a moment from her armchair, losing track of the conversation for a moment. She’d say something, but Natasha and Clint didn’t care. It wasn’t bothering them, so she let him be. 

“Tony’s dying to throw a party, and I know for a fact Andy’s birthday is coming up,” Natasha drawled, giving Miranda a pointed look. 

“Hell no,” Miranda shot back. “If we’re doing anything, we’re doing to a bar like normal people.”

“Of course we’re doing something!” Clint chimed in. “A bar night sounds great.”

“It sounds awfully public to me,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Listen here, Captain Serious,” Miranda teased, nudging his elbow with her foot, “a Stark party is gonna be ten times more public and you know it.” 

“Fair enough,” Steve acquiesced. 

“A night of merriment is all that is needed,” Thor agreed. Miranda raised her hand out, staring at Steve like  _ See? _

Miranda glanced down when she felt a tug on her shirt. Ben stood there grinning for a moment before waddling off towards Steve. She sprung up and sank to the floor, watching him grab onto the edge of Steve’s armchair. 

“Ben! You can walk!”

“Those were his first steps?” Clint interjected. Miranda held out her hands, encouraging Ben to walk over to her. 

“I’m so proud!” she cheered, hugging Ben when he stumbled into her open arms. “Steve, come on, kneel so he can walk between us. Come on, baby, can you walk to Uncle Steve again?” Ben squirmed out of her arms and toddered a few steps before falling onto his butt. “It’s okay, baby, you did great,” Miranda soothed, helping him stand up again. He held tightly to her fingers, no longer super sure on his feet. 

“I don’t think he’ll walk much more, not if these are his first steps,” Clint told her. She nodded, picking Ben up and spinning in a circle, smiling brightly. 

“That’s fine,” she grinned. “This is so exciting! And really scary cause he’s gonna wander off or get into things he shouldn’t. But he can walk!” 

Miranda couldn’t stop grinning for hours, and excitedly showed Pepper, Tony, and Bruce the footage JARVIS sent to her phone later before dinner. And she sent the video off to Sam, Rhodey, Jane and Darcy, wherever they happened to be. And she showed her therapist — Dr. Arzt — at their next appointment. 

“So things are looking up?” Dr. Arzt asked. 

“I guess you could say that. I’ve been sleeping better, at least.”

“Good.” Miranda let the silence stretch for a moment. 

“Sometimes I think about what I would have missed, if I had… but I know that if I had had the chance, I wouldn’t have regretted it. And I feel like a horrible mother when I say that.”

“You were in a completely different situation then. You were scared, and just because you love your son  _ now _ doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t have been the right decision for you  _ then _ .”

“I suppose so.”

*****

“Aaaand we are clear!” Tony shouted, proudly pushing the last button in the sequence. 

“I hope this works,” Bruce grumbled. 

“Don’t be such a worrywart, it’ll work. And with the Sentinels doing their thing, we don’t have to do so much Avenger-ing. So the Other Guy can stay away for awhile longer.”

“I know, but how many movies have things go wrong with robots?” Bruce pointed out.

“Good thing this isn’t a movie then, huh?” Tony said, clapping his hand on Bruce’s shoulder as he passed by to refill is coffee mug.

*****

Miranda shook her hair out of her face, leaning back on her hands. She was content to sit in the shade of a large maple in Central Park, listening to the breeze in the leaves and Steve sketching in his sketchbook and people milling about it the park, and watching the clouds float lazily by. 

“Excuse me?” came a tentative voice. Both Steve and Miranda looked at the young woman, bracing themselves. This always happened — someone wanted an autograph or a picture with Captain America. But the young woman surprised them both by addressing Miranda: “You’re Miranda Douglas, right?”

“That depends, who’s asking?” Miranda answered skeptically, sitting up. 

“Oh, sure, ma’am. I’m Alexandra Laurens, and I work with Polaris,” she replied, fishing in her purse for a business card. “We’re an advocacy group for sex and labor trafficking,” she continued, handing Miranda the card. She flipped it over, quickly reading both sides. “I don’t suppose you happened to get our email?”

“No, sorry. I think stuff is pretty heavily filtered before it gets to me.”

“That’s fine. Do you mind if I sum it up for you?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Well, we, as an organisation, were wondering if you would like to become one of our ambassadors, and speak at an upcoming conference in August.”

“That sounds cool,” Miranda blinked, looking up at Miss Laurens’ eager face. “What, uh, would I talk about?”

“If you’re comfortable, your experience, and then about Polaris’ mission and why it’s so important.”

“My experience?”

“Mhm. A lot of people look up to you, Miss Douglas, as a role model and beckon of hope of sorts for victims of sex crimes.”

“Really?” Miranda mused, surprised and humbled.

“Not everyone gets such a fairytale ending,” Miss Laurens said, nodding towards Steve. Miranda laughed at that. She was no princess, but there was no denying that Steve looked like a regular Prince Charming.

“I’ll consider it,” she told Ms. Laurens earnestly, tucking the business card into her purse. “But I’m warning you, I’m  _ far _ from a fairytale ending.”

“All I ask is your consideration, Miss Douglas,” Miss Laurens nodded. “Thank you. I hope you two have a lovely afternoon!” She waved as she walked back to the path and continued on her way. Miranda waved after her for a moment before leaning back and staring at the clouds again. 

“An ambassador, huh?” Steve said. 

“I guess. Why are you grinning like that?”

“I’m proud of you, that’s all,” he shrugged. 

“You’re a sap.” She rolled her eyes. 

“What? I can’t be proud of my girl?” he teased. Miranda punched him, grinning. 

“No, you’re supposed to hate my guts,” she drawled. A moment later, Natasha and Clint came back from the playground with Ben. Clint collapsed face-first onto the blanket. “Aw, did Ben tire you out?”

“He’s an old man that hasn’t had coffee in an hour, of course he’s tired,” Natasha smirked, setting Ben down next to Miranda before sitting down herself. Clint resisted the urge to flip her off — they were in public after all. 

“You guys missed it, Andy got asked to be an ambassador for Polaris,” Steve said. 

“Polaris? What’s that?” Clint asked, rolling over onto his back. 

“An advocacy group for sex and labor trafficking,” Miranda supplied, shooting a playful glare at Steve. “They want me to speak at a conference in August.” 

“Are you going to?” Natasha asked, watching her face for her reaction. 

“Maybe. I’ll think about it. Ah, shit, quick, grab the runaway toddler!” Miranda laughed, driving halfheartedly across Steve’s legs towards her son. Steve grabbed the back of his shirt, stopping the toddler in his tracks. Ben giggled as Steve pulled him back to the blanket. 

“He’s only been walking for a week!”

“I know,” Miranda groaned. “I had to baby-proof every corner on my floor in an hour.” 

“And you got it done?” Clint exclaimed. 

“Grace helped,” Miranda replied, trying to distract Ben with a plush book. “Most of it was done already. I think Tony had a hand in that before we even moved in.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Steve said. 

“Yeah, it seems like something he would do,” Clint added, the end turning into a grunt as Natasha laid her head on his stomach like a pillow. The pair started finding shapes in the clouds, and Miranda read the little plush book to Ben until he started drifting off in her lap, and Steve sketched. It was a lovely afternoon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go to polarisproject.org to find out more about Polaris. I have no idea how they actually work (I read what I could on their site, but it doesn't have the nitty gritty details), so I'm taking some creative license here.   
> Also, I've done some (re)plotting. Originally, this part was going to more or less go through Civil War and then some. Instead, this'll end after AoU, part 4 will be CW, part 5 will give Loki a more or less happy ending, and then there'll be some more after that. Parts 4 and 5 are probably only gonna be like 5ish chapters, and this one'll be 15ish when everything is said and done.   
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	11. Who Ever Said Reunions Had to be Physical? And Who Said They Didn't?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said that this chapter was going to be emotional... but I kinda lied. This is just more happy-feel good stuff. (Also holy shit, I'm randomly just cranking out chapters rn? Fingers crossed I can keep it up!)

Miranda slipped away for a moment after thanking Grace profusely (again) for agreeing to stay the night to watch Ben while the adults went out to celebrate her birthday since she couldn’t get away with just a nice dinner with everyone. But the only way to prevent Tony from throwing a party was to agree to go to a fancy rooftop lounge. No, it couldn’t have been a corner bar, it had to be a private lounge. 

But that was in a few hours yet. Miranda had something she wanted to do before then, and she needed to give herself plenty of time for it. Hopefully four hours was enough, she thought as she hit send after months of deliberation. No going back now. 

“Hello?” She heard on the other end. Her throat closed up, she couldn’t speak. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mom,” she whispered, broken and breathy and relieved and overjoyed. 

“Andy?” came her mother’s reply after a moment’s disbelief. 

“Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” she replied, wiping tears off her cheeks. 

“Oh my god, sweetheart — Ervin, come here! — god, it’s so good to hear your voice! How are you? How are things?”

“I’m doing alright. Things are fine. Wha-what about you guys? How are you?”

“Hang on, Andy, let me put you on speaker.” There was some shuffling on their end before her mother said, “Okay, you’re on speaker baby. We’re both here.”

“Hey, Dad, how are you?” She heard a choked sound. “Dad are you okay?”

“I’m fine, sweetie, it’s just good to hear you.”

“It’s good to hear you, too,” she smiled. 

The conversation flowed easily, drifting from topic to topic like no time had passed — but of course so much time had passed and there was so much to talk about and catch up on. They avoided a lot of things (ie Loki), but brushed on and discussed everything else. Levi was in college, her mother told her proudly, preparing for the Academy with a glowing recommendation letter from their uncle waiting for him once he applied. Miranda admitted she was thinking about going back to finish her degree, but this time for psychology or neuroscience so she could utilize her powers. 

“Powers?” her mother interjected. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m psychic? Kinda, anyway. It’s complicated.”

“How?” her father asked.

“Uh, well, we don’t really know. Trying to figure it out, but… no solid answers yet?” She didn’t want to talk about it, and blessedly, her parents let her steer the conversation away from her powers (she really didn’t want to explain the genetic mutation she got from one of them over the phone).

“OH! Andy, how’s the little one?” her mother cried. She sounded almost distressed that she hadn’t asked about him before. 

“Ben’s fine. He, uh, just took his first steps about a week ago, actually.” She promised to send the video of Ben’s first steps and promised to keep them updated. Her mother then launched into a list of things she thought her daughter ought to know now that she was a mother herself.

“In other news, I never thought I’d have to give Captain America the shovel talk,” her dad said, not so subtly changing the topic from mothering.

“Dad, it’s not like that.”

“Sweetie, we’ve seen the magazines. Nobody in town’ll shut up about it.”

“Dad, it’s for publicity.” She heard her mother scoff. 

“Then either you two are Oscar-worthy actors or you’re lying to yourself, sweetheart,” her mother said, obviously more inclined to believe the latter. Miranda flopped onto her back, running a hand down her face. Steve was a shitty liar… but it  _ had  _ become an art for her.

“Anyway, Thor has adopted me as a sister,” she said abruptly. Not the best or smoothest transition, but she was gonna go with it. They kept talking for another hour before Miranda realized she  _ really _ needed to hang up so she could get ready.

She apologized for not calling sooner, but her parents both said it was fine, they understood. It had been a long three years, but it wasn’t her fault. 

“Just don’t make us wait another three years,” her father warned.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Miranda vowed. 

*****

The group stood around several tall tables towards the back of the lounge. 

“To the birthday girl!” Tony cheered, raising his glass. The others echoed him, each raising their own glasses towards Miranda, who blushed and raised her glass in thanks, joining the toast. 

“Happy birthday, Andy,” Steve told her. She almost leaned into him, letting him curl his arm around her waist, but she remembered what her mother had said earlier and didn’t. “Something wrong?” His brow was furrowed and for half a second she considered just telling him because, god, wouldn’t that make things so much simpler — to just nip it in the bud? 

“No,” she lied. They both knew she was lying, but Steve let her be. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he wasn’t going to press. They’d come to an agreement on that. 

“Hate to burst your bubble, lovebirds,” Tony interjected, “but I believe it’s present time.”

“Oh, no, you guys have already done so much —” Miranda protested before Bruce cut her off. 

“We wanted to, Andy.” 

“Okay,” she acquiesced. Pepper and Natasha nodded in tandem, stepping away from the tables and disappearing into the crowd. Steve squeezed her gently, and she giggled when she caught sight of Clint’s Disapproving Dad Face. 

Pepper and Natasha reappeared a moment later, walking as to strategically hide something behind them. Well, more like someone. 

“Surprise!” Stacy shouted, throwing her arms up as Pepper and Natasha stepped aside. 

“Stacy!” Miranda squealed, rounding the table to embrace her friend. The pair squeezed each other tightly, rocking back and forth in a circle. 

“God, how do you look better  _ after _ having a kid?” Stacy marveled, leaning back to look at her friend but not letting go. “You’ve  _ got  _ to share your secret.”

“Results aren’t exactly repeatable,” Miranda laughed. “How have you been? Where have you been?”

“Fine. Here, in New York mostly.” They hugged each other again, not quite believing this was really happening. (It was. Miranda had scanned through every mind in the room, and this was really, truly happening.)

Miranda disentangled herself to squeeze each of the Avengers in turn.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she cried, bouncing and jumping from Avenger to Avenger. 

“I don’t think she likes it,” Steve said flatly. Miranda punched his arm. “I’m teasing, doll.”

“I know, dumbass.”

“Aw, you’re even cuter in person!” Stacy cooed. Miranda shot her a withering glare that lasted only a moment. 

“I changed my mind, I hate this,” she teased. 

“Nah, you love me.” Stacy laughed as Miranda playfully flipped her off. “God, I missed you.”

“Missed you, too. Do you want a drink?”

“Hell yeah!” And with that, the pair headed off towards the bar. 

“How did you find her?” Steve asked Clint and Natasha, the obvious suspects. 

“Actually, Pepper found her,” Natasha replied, taking a sip of her drink. 

“She applied for a job in management, and I thought her name sounded familiar so I asked Natasha to run it,” Pepper shrugged, like it was nothing at all. “Turns out I was right.” 

“Well, I think that was a fortunate coincidence,” Bruce said. “But all the same, watching them has reminded me how young she is.” The other Avengers murmured in agreement.

“Twenty-three is a lot younger than it used to be,” Clint mumbled. “Or maybe I’m just getting old.”

“Yeah, you are, birdbrain,” Tony commented, dodging a balled-up straw wrapper just before it hit him in the face. It ended up bouncing off his shoulder and into his drink. “Rude.” Pepper just rolled her eyes and plucked it out for him. 

*****

“So,” Stacy began, leaning on the bar while they waited for her drink, “you and Rogers, huh? I thought you were more of a Barnes girl.”

“Things change,” Miranda shrugged. 

“Okay, sure, play coy with me. So where’s Raoul?” Miranda stiffened, her gaze dropping to the bar. Stacy waited patiently for Miranda to explain — the kid must have died during the Conquering or as a rebel during Loki’s reign. Either seemed fitting for what she knew of her bestie’s childhood best friend. 

“Uh, he’s still in Michigan,” Miranda said. 

“Why isn’t he here? Are you keeping Captain Spangly-Pants to yourself?” she teased. 

“Stace…” Miranda paused and took a deep breath. “I should have told you forever ago. Raoul… he died when we were sophomores.”

“In college?” Miranda shook her head. 

“No, high school.” Stacy stared out into the crowd, blinking rapidly, running over every conversation they had ever had about the kid. 

“But you said you visited him over breaks and stuff.”

“I mean, I did.”

“Andy, if I had known —”

“It’s fine, Stacy. I’m the one who didn’t say anything.” The pair were silent for a moment. Stacy accepted her drink from the bartender. 

“Well, uh, back to Captain Spangly-Pants,” Stacy said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively in an attempt to lighten the mood. It worked for the most part. 

“What about him?” Miranda smirked, laughing at her friend’s ridiculousness. 

“What’s under them?” Stacy asked. To her credit, she kept a straight face until she finished her question. 

“You’re horrible,” Miranda admonished, grinning. “And even if I did know, why would I tell you?”

“Cause you told me about Jonathan when you two were dating,” Stacy replied, beginning to make her way through the crowd. “And if I had to listen to you about that asshole, I should get to learn details about your new beau.”

“He’s not my beau,” Miranda retorted. “And Jonathan wasn’t an asshole the whole time.”

“No, but he broke your heart and he’s lucky there wasn’t a good body dump near campus.”

“Stacy!”

“What? I was ready to murder him! Still am, tbh.”

“I’ll fill you in when we’re not in public, alright?”

“Solid,” Stacy grinned. They didn’t say anything else until they got back to the group, where they jumped into the conversation. 

This was definitely one of her best birthdays yet, she thought, looking around at her friends who were getting progressively drunker as the night went on. For once, they were all happy and relaxed. It was going to be hard to beat this next year. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeyyyy Stacy's back! I considered the Avengers getting in a bar fight, but then I decided that bringing Stacy back was waaaaaaay better. (And cut the emotional drama!)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Thunder and Lightning, Very, Very Frightening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is some fluff.... and sad.... but mostly fluff
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen because I found it humorous.

Thunder rumbled overhead, another flash of lightning shattering the dark for a moment. Miranda rocked back and forth, humming softly and rubbing her hand on Ben’s back to soothe him. The kid wasn’t scared of the storm, but there had been a loud boom that made Miranda’s heart race a little bit too a few minutes ago. Loud noises were loud noises, regardless of being the god of thunder’s nephew or not.

As Miranda lay a now sleeping Ben back in his crib, she took stock of how the other Avengers were doing. Tony was in the lab, — no surprise there — Thor was contentedly watching the storm from his window, Bruce was surprisingly in a rather peaceful sleep, as was Clint, and Natasha was dozing after being startled awake by the same clap of thunder that woke Ben. Miranda didn’t get to Steve until she was quietly closing the door to Ben’s nursery. 

She didn’t pause to get slippers or a robe. 

She didn’t even realize that she probably should have until she was running barefoot down the stairs. It was really cold.  _ Priorities _ , she reminded herself. Pulling Steve out of a nightmare was significantly more important than the fact that her toes felt like little icicles. She wouldn’t even be going through the trouble of  _ physically _ going to him if she wasn’t afraid he was gonna hurt himself. 

She took a moment to catch her breath before opening the door to his floor and making her way through the halls to his bedroom. She wasted no time, diving into his mind and grabbing his wrists at once. She held tightly, rocking at the strength of his nightmare. 

_ The hell I can’t I’m a captain I gotta put her in the water Are those your only options a lab rat or a dancing monkey Peggy I — Every word Hell no that little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight I’m following him I got beat up in that alley and behind that diner I don’t know this is the longest conversation I’ve had with one Turn the plane around GET OUTTA HERE I’m with you till the end of the line I still don’t know how to dance How can I you’re taking all the stupid with you I’ll teach you how Just be there NO NOT WITHOUT YOU Eight p.m. at the Stork Club Don’t win the war till I get there _

_ Falling falling falling so much snow it’s too white coming up too fast Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone at Coney Island A black speck against the snow This isn’t payback is it falling falling falling Now why would I do that There’s a river but it’s too far You did everything you could A compass sliding down as needles behind it go wild it’s Peggy I’m leaving her I’m failing her like I failed Bucky Peggy I’m gonna need a rain check on that dance Where are we going The future _

Miranda shook her head to clear her thoughts. She implanted herself in Steve’s nightmare, bracing herself for how it could change. The whirlwind continued, but Miranda pushed forward to the eye of the storm, to Steve. 

“Steve!” she cried, grabbing his shoulder so he would turn to look at her. As soon as he saw her, the noise died down, though the storm continued to whirl around them. 

“Andy,” he breathed, so soft Miranda barely heard it. The tension drained from him, and even with all his height she felt like he was the smaller of the two of them. 

“Hey, just breathe. Focus on me. On my voice, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Andy, I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t risk it — I can’t lose you.” NOPE. NO. NOT HAPPENING. “I can’t lose you like I lost Peggy and Bucky. I can’t do that again.” SHIT ABORT ABORT. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Miranda assured him. She slowly began to lead him out of his head. It was a grueling process. But she gently pulled him along, sorting through and packing things away as they went out. She never took her eyes off his, repeatedly telling him, “I’m here, I’m real, I’m not going anywhere, none of us are going anywhere.”

Eventually, Steve surfaced, and they stared at each other for a moment with their real eyes, a flash of lightning creating drastic shadows across their faces. Miranda opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sharp squeak as Steve pulled her down onto the bed. She ended up on her side with her legs draped across his. 

“So that was you,” Steve said, leaning his forehead against hers. 

“Yeah.”

“So you saw that.”

“Yeah. I was worried you were going to hurt yourself.” 

“You aren’t going anywhere are you?”

“No.” She felt the tension drain out of him. 

“So you don’t hate me?” Miranda smiled about the role reversal. 

“No. I think I embarrassed myself more, anyway.” Steve pulled her closer to his chest. “You’re not going to lose me. I don’t give up on my friends.”

“You should pick better friends.”

“Excuse you, I have the best friends.” She shifted, curling up comfortably next to him, resting her hand on his heart to remind her that, yes, this was in fact real. “I think we crossed some line,” she added after a long pause. 

“What do you mean?”

“We’re in that weird between place where we’re too close to be just friends, but not enough to, you know, be more than that.”

“I think we both know we’re not going any farther.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “We’re both too afraid of the commitment.” She snuggled up to his chest. “Steve?”

“Andy?” Miranda leaned back and punched him gently, staring him in the eye.

“I’m bein’ serious, asshole.”

“Alright, alright. Continue.”

“I know that you, uh, briefly met my ex, Jonathan.”

“Yeah. You didn’t seem very happy to see him.”

“He broke my heart, can you blame me?”

“No.”

“Great, we’re on the same page. Now shut up and lemme talk.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked. Miranda glared at him.

“Anyway, I think that if, uh, we’re gonna not do this, that I should tell you why I’m not in it since I think we both know why you’re not.” She waited for him to nod before continuing. “Jonathan and I dated for about 8 months. I thought that it was safe to, uh, come out to him as, erm, pansexual,” she admitted, whispering the last word. “Which, uh, means that I don’t care about gender and whatnot. ‘Hearts not parts’ and ‘love is for souls not bodies’ and all that jazz. Jonathan, he… he flipped. Spat in my face and spread a rumor around campus that I was a greedy little —” She told a deep breath. “So I decked him in the middle of the dining hall.” Steve squeezed her tightly. “So basically I got screwed over in my last two relationships, and I know you’re not like either of them, but I don’t think I can take the chance.” Suddenly she stiffened and pushed herself away. “Shit, I just came out to you!”

“Hey, hey, calm down.”

“I will not calm down, I can’t take it back!”

“Then don’t! Just calm down and listen, okay?”Miranda stopped trying to scramble away sideways and nodded. “I’m really not that surprised. You’ve got so much love in you, nothing as menial as gender is gonna stop you. You are very aggressive with your affections.” Miranda chuckled softly, but let him keep talking. “After the gala, I poked around on the internet to figure out what you meant when you said I found Narnia. I gotta say, you’re clever. And you were right. A lot’s changed while I was frozen, but the one thing that hasn’t changed is that I’m, uh, bisexual.” Miranda was beaming as she scooted closer to him. 

“Look at us, two qu—” she clamped a hand over her mouth. “Fuck, that’s a slur for you, isn’t it? I’m horrible.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“Says you,” Miranda groused, pressing herself against his chest again. 

“Yeah, says me.” Another loud clap of thunder rumbled overhead, loud enough that it rattled the walls. Miranda tapped frantically on Steve’s chest as the room quieted. 

“Steve, I can’t breathe!” 

“Sorry,” he said, loosening his grip. 

“Is it better if I’m here?” 

“A bit,” Steve admitted.

“Okay,” she said, shimming under the sheets and then curling up next to him. “Then I’ll be your teddy bear, yeah?”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. Never was a teddy bear for anybody, so it should be fine. Stop your worrying, Rogers, it’s three a.m. and I’m tired.” He chuckled, pulling her close so her back was pressed to his chest. She was right, they had crossed some line somewhere, but for now, it didn’t matter.

*****

Stacy flopped down on Miranda’s couch, her head in Miranda’s lap. 

“What are we doing Sunday?” Stacy asked. Miranda sighed, setting the tablet aside.

“I am currently locked in a battle with Tony to not have a big party,” she said, checking her phone to see if he had replied yet. “Ben’s turning one, not twenty-one.”

“Wait, you’re fighting to  _ not _ have a party?”

“Stace, I am  _ not _ letting Tony throw a party for a  _ toddler _ . The lounge was a concession for my birthday. I wanted to go to a hole-in-the-wall like normal people.”

“Well none of you are ‘normal’ anyway. I mean, you spar with the Black Widow, force Iron Man and the Hulk to eat, Hawkeye and Thor both adopted you, and you’re fake-dating Captain America,” Stacy argued, counting them off on her fingers. “And you were pretty extraordinary before.”

“Fair enough,” Miranda conceded, blushing slightly. 

“Speaking of fake-dating Captain America, have you dug around on the internet? Like Tumblr and AO3?”

“No and I’m scared to know what you’ve found.” Stacy grinned devilishly.

“Tumblr isn’t too bad. They seem to like you well enough. Especially since you’ve started working with Polaris — which is super cool, btw, I support you — and you’re legit a role model for  _ so fucking many _ victims. There’s people who hate you, of course, but they get slammed into the fuckin’ concrete at high speeds, so…” she shrugged. “I personally don’t get it, ‘cause they’re saying you fuckin’  _ volunteered _ or some bullshit. And I know you, you wouldn’t of.” Miranda winced. 

“I mean, I kinda did? They were gonna take these two middle school girls, I couldn’t just stand by!” she defended. 

“Of course you’d be a martyr,” Stacy smirked. “Anyway, AO3 has been fun. Want me to read some of my favorite quotes?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” 

“‘He took her hand in his —’” Stacy began dramatically before Miranda clamped her hand down on her mouth. 

“I have a toddler, do you really think licking my hand is gonna get you anywhere?” Stacy licked her hand again petulantly before Miranda rolled her eyes and wiped her hand on her pants. “Finally,” Miranda sighed, picking up her phone. “Damn it, Tony, I said no petting zoo!” 

“A petting zoo! Come on, Andy! It’s a petting zoo!”

“Fuck. No.” Miranda shot off a text to Tony that was to the same effect.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	13. Baby Goats & Nefarious Evil

There was a petting zoo. Sorta. 

It wasn’t so much a ‘petting zoo’ as an opportunity to interact with and feed animals. Specifically, goats. (But it was close enough.)

“That’s a goat,” Miranda told Ben. “They sound like this: bleeeeh! Can you sound like a goat?” Ben giggled, shaking his head. “You’re silly, kid. Come on, bleeeeh!” She just about died laughing when the goat bleated. 

“Ahh, goat, no!” Clint cried, getting knocked over onto his rear. Natasha chuckled, not even offering to help him back to his feet. A moment later, Tony ran past, chased by another goat. 

“Pepper, help!”

“It’s my day off!” she shot back from outside the enclosure. 

“Maybe I was too quick to write off a petting zoo,” Miranda smirked, closing the gate behind her as she stepped out of the enclosure, “it’s fun to watch Tony get chased around by baby goats.”

“I’ve got you, girl,” Stacy grinned, referencing to her phone on which she’d been filming the whole thing. “This is never going away.”

“Granted, Ben is a little young for this sorta thing yet, aren’t ya, kiddo?” Miranda said, buckling Ben back into the stroller and tickling his tummy. 

“I was surprised you agreed to this,” Pepper said. 

“I wasn’t about to let Tony do something big. A day at the zoo with a cake later is plenty for a one-year-old.” 

“Hey, so the photographers aren’t, like, a problem, right?” Stacy asked. 

“There’s always paparazzi these days,” Steve said. He was always grumpy about that. 

“Back in my day,” Stacy teased, faking a grumpy old man voice, “we didn’t have no asshole photographers followin’ people around.” (It earned her a small smile from Steve, which she considered a personal achievement.) “Oh, hey, it’s almost two, guys! We should get movin’!” 

“Aw, yeah, cake time!” Clint cried. 

“Where’s Thor?” Miranda asked. 

“He’s still telling goats war stories,” Natasha told her, pointing in his direction. 

“Thor! Come on, we’re heading out! You can recruit goats later!” Miranda shouted. He 

looked up and nodded very seriously, saying goodbye to the goats. 

“His chariot was pulled by goats, right?” Stacy whispered, walking next to Miranda as they walked away from the goats. 

“Just in the legends from what I know.” Stacy nodded.

“I’d still love to see it.”

*****

There was another thunderstorm a few nights later, the third one this spring. Miranda bounced Ben gently, rocking him back to sleep. Steve leaned on the doorway waiting patiently. 

“You don’t have to stand there,” she said softly. “You can go back to sleep.”

“I can’t,” he replied. “If I could, I wouldn’t be up here in the first place.”

“Fair enough,” Miranda conceded before humming softly, continuing to rock gently back and forth. A few minutes later Ben had fallen asleep again and the two adults were able to go back to bed themselves, Miranda taking the position of “teddy bear” again. 

In the morning, Steve was up first. He started the coffee pot and sketched peaceably on the kitchen island. There wasn’t much point in running if they were going to be leaving for DC in a few hours for their meeting with the Pentagon. So he used his time to sketch. Steve stared at the half-finished drawing and realized he’d done another character study. The book was practically full of them — Peggy studying a map, Bucky lounging on their beat-up couch with a paperback from the library, Miranda laughing with Ben in her arms, Natasha smirking, Clint covered in bandages and nursing a cup of coffee, Thor and Jane snuggling on a loveseat, Pepper and Tony chatting across the bar, Peggy in her red dress, Bucky in uniform, Miranda cooking, Peggy in uniform, Bucky laughing, and so many more. The new one he’d just started he could already tell who they were. It was the three of them — Peggy, Bucky, and Miranda — posing together as if for a picture. A line-up he would never actually see. 

“Morning,” Miranda murmured when she entered the kitchen. She went about making them both cups of coffee with routine grace. 

“Morning.” Then, a few moments later when she placed his mug — a novelty Captain America mug because she thought it was hilarious — in front of him, “Thanks.”

“Whatcha drawin’? If you don’t mind sharing.”

“It’s nothing. Just a character study.” She hummed, taking a sip of her coffee. She knew he was deflecting, but her attention was diverted by a text on her phone. She frowned, making a sad little humming sound while typing out a response. “What happened?”

“Grace is taking a sick day. Which would be fine, but I have an appointment at nine with Dr. Arzt and I can’t take Ben.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “S’pose I could cancel....”

“I can watch Ben,” Steve offered. “It’s just an hour or two, right?”

“Yeah. You’d really be okay with that?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

“You’re amazing,” she beamed. “For that, I’ll actually make breakfast.” She hopped up, pulling out her recipe book before Steve could even protest. Usually on travel days she wouldn’t bother, but these were special circumstances. So she made a quick hash. 

“Stop squirming for just one second, will ya?” she heard Steve ask. Turning around, she saw he was struggling to strap Ben into his chair that was clamped to the island. 

“What are you doing?” she asked fondly. 

“Trying to put him in this thing, what does it look like?” Miranda chuckled, then gave him tips, keeping her focus on the hash so it wouldn’t burn. “Finally. Tada!” Miranda glanced over her shoulder and smiled. Ben was secure in the chair and grinning at Steve like he had been difficult just because he could be. (Which was probably true.)

“Good job, Captain. Mission report on my desk by noon,” she joked. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve laughed.  

*****

Clint plopped down in the seat across from Miranda. 

“Where’d you get the mother necklace?” he asked, gesturing towards her pendant necklace. The silhouette of mother and child formed a heart. 

“My parents sent it to me as a late birthday/early Mother’s Day gift. Agent Hill helped me get in contact with them,” she answered, supplying the second answer because she knew he would ask. Clint nodded. Letting the silence grow, Miranda picked up her tablet again.

“Did everyone read their briefing packets?” Agent Hill asked. They all replied in some form of the affirmative. “Good. We’re supposed to get more information once we get there.”

“I sure hope so. The briefings didn’t say much,” Steve said. 

“Makes me kinda nervous,” Sam said. “They asked for all of us.  _ By name _ .”

“Wariness isn’t a bad thing,” Natasha shrugged. 

“We’ll have to wait and see, but I agree. We should all ere on the side of caution,” Hill said, effectively ending the conversation. Miranda turned back to her tablet. 

*****

A pair of cars were waiting for them when they landed, taking them straight to the Pentagon. Miranda refused to leave Ben with a secretary, and demanded that she be allowed to hold him during the meeting. (“Who’s he gonna tell? He can’t even talk yet.”) Eventually, they reluctantly allowed her to do so. (He probably wouldn’t admit it, but Tony was proud. It’s not everyday someone bosses around the Pentagon.)

They all took their seats — assigned seats at that. A manila folder awaited each of them with  _ Project Insight _ printed across the front under the DOD’s seal. The briefing started with a brief apology:

“Senator Stern is going to be a bit late, but we’re going to go ahead and start. You can ask him any questions you have when he gets here,” the general said. 

“He’s still not going to get any of my suits,” Tony said. The general looked a bit irritated at the interruption, but knowing that the project was backed by Senator Stern didn’t bode well for the Avengers. 

The briefing went ahead without further interruption, everyone keeping quiet until the end. The tension was growing thicker with each passing moment, and even though Thor was off visiting Jane, it felt like a storm was brewing.

“So this is what? Protecting people by holding a gun to everyone on the planet?” Miranda demanded. “I lived like that for awhile, I’d rather not go through it again.”

“We must take the world as it is, Ms. Douglas, not as we’d like it to be. Project Insight will allow us to eliminate a lot of threats before they happen,” the general said.

“I thought the punishment usually came after the crime,” Steve said. 

“We can’t take that chance anymore.”

“I thought this program was only a proposal,” Natasha said. 

“It is until is gets Congressional approval. You’re here to help smooth out some wrinkles.”

“Is your pitch to Congress going to sound a lot more patriotic or something? Throw in some lines about protecting freedom?” Sam said. 

“As if they would buy that this is about freedom,” Steve said. 

“Captain Rogers, I’ve read my history books. For the ‘Greatest Generation,’ you sure made a lot of mistakes.”

“Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well at night. But we did it so people could be free.This isn’t freedom, this is fear.”

“And with my Sentinel program, this isn’t necessary,” Tony added. Before the general could respond, the door opened and Senator Stern entered with his small entourage. Miranda calmly passed Ben to Clint so she could get up and greet the senator. 

“Senator Stern, I don’t think we were ever formally introduced,” she said, extending her hand. “Loki wasn’t one for introductions, after all,” she continued with a deadly sweet smile. The senator paled and left her hand hanging in the air. “Sorry, did I step on your moment? Guess you don’t get the dramatic entrance you wanted.” She dropped her hand. “Though I’m sure the MPs will help you have a dramatic exit, right, General Hampton?”

“I believe that can be arranged, Ms. Douglas.” 

Project Insight never made it to Congress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	14. Oh Dear (Republished)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY!!! I accidently only posted half the chapter before, so I'm republishing it so y'all get the full thing. I'm so so so sorry.   
> Anyway, these scenes occur between May 20 and July 4. Sorry for the long chapter (3.4k!!!).

They had only just gotten back to New York when a phone call came in for Miranda. The others were not so subtly listening in on her side of the conversation.

“Yes, of course,” Miranda said into the phone. “Sir, I wasn’t introduced — … I understand, but I told SHIELD all the names that I had. I was told that they were all passed on to you, and the investigation went smoothly…. Of course…. No, I will. Just on my own time….” She sighed. “Yes. Send them, and I’ll get back to you after I’ve marked the ones I recognize…. Happy to be of service, sir. Good-bye.” She pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment. “Agent Hill, how the hell do you deal with brass all the time?”

“You get used to it.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“It is,” Steve agreed. 

*****

“Hey, Sam,” Miranda greeted when he picked up. “How do you feel about going to Manchester in July?”

“What’s in Manchester?”

“Peggy Carter.”

“I take it you wanna surprise Steve for his birthday by taking him to see Peggy.”

“... Yeah.”

“You’re about two years behind the curve there, Andy.”

“Goddamn it!” Sam chuckled. “What am I gonna do now?” she whined. 

“It’s only May, you’ve got time.”

“But this was gonna be great. Damn it.”

“You’ll figure it out. Bye.”

“Bye.” Miranda hung up and angrily closed her search windows. 

*****

“Five bucks on Rogers,” Clint said, leaning towards Miranda. 

“You’re on,” Miranda grinned, shaking his hand. Neither of them looked away from Thor and Steve, who were sparring. 

“You think this is about your honor?” Clint joked. Miranda snorted. 

“Well now I do.” 

“Are you busy this weekend? Nothing’s come up in awhile so I’m gonna go home for a few weeks. You could come visit for a few days.”

“I don’t think I am. I might. It’d be good for Ben to get out of the city.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m leaving?”

“Sure. Aaaand you owe me five bucks,” she said as Thor pinned Steve to the mat. 

“I should stop betting against you,” Clint grumbled, handing over a crumpled dollar bill. Miranda just grinned. 

******

Miranda frowned, gently dabbing the blood off of Ben’s forehead. Of course the kid would run into the one corner on their floor that she had missed. 

“Hold still,” she said gently, smoothing a fingertip-ful of Neosporin over the cut before putting a Sesame Street bandage over it. “All better,” she said after pressing a kiss over the bandage. She lifted him off the counter and set him back on the floor. “Please don’t find anymore corners.”

Ben giggled and tottered off. Miranda followed a few paces behind. Ben ran up to Steve, who picked him up. Ben squealed in delight, looking behind him as if to say,  _ Mom, look who’s home! _

“Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Steve smiled. “What’d he run into?”

“Apparently I missed a corner when I was toddler-proofing.” Steve laughed, and tickled Ben, teasing him about giving his mother a hard time. 

*****

“Jesus, fuck, Nat!” Miranda squeaked as the knife wiggled just a hairsbreadth away from her face. 

“You volunteered,” she shrugged. 

“I didn’t think you’d be throwing that close!”

“If you stay still, you’ll be fine.”

“I changed my mind, make Clint do this —” she squeaked again as another knife flew towards her. To her credit, though, she didn’t move. 

“He’s making a call,” Natasha said, the ‘to Laura’ part left unsaid. “So you’re stuck until he’s done.”

“I regret this immensely!”

“I would have never guessed,” Natasha drawled, throwing another knife. 

*****

Miranda and Laura chatted on the porch as the kids ran around, jumping through the sprinkler. They were shrieking and laughing and covered in little splatters of mud, and Ben just ran around in circles trying to keep up with the older Barton children. 

“When are you due?”

“August,” Laura replied, rubbing mindless circles on her stomach. 

“You’re gonna have your hands full.”

“Yeah, but Clint’s planning on retiring soon, so.” Miranda nodded, and her response was stalled by a commotion in the yard. Ben apparently tripped over the hose or something and was crying now. 

“We didn’t do anything!” Lila shouted. “He just fell and started crying!”

“I know, it’s fine,” Miranda replied, helping Ben back to his feet. “No owies, baby. You’re okay.” Ben kept crying. “Laura, what time is it?”

“Almost three.”

“Alright, little guy, I think it’s time for a nap,” she said, picking him up. 

“Aw, can’t he keep playing?” Cooper asked. 

“Later. Right now he’s tired.”

“Okay.” Miranda took Ben inside and Cooper and Lila started running through the sprinkler again. 

*****

“Jarvis, be a dear and lock the computers,” Miranda requested, starring Tony in the eye. 

“ _ Of course, Miss Douglas _ .” Miranda smirked at Tony’s look of betrayal and set the plate down in front of him. 

“Eat. When you take the plate back up to the kitchen I’ll tell Jarvis to let you back into the system.”

“This is cruel and unusual.”

“Making you eat is cruel and unusual,” Miranda said drily, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’ve turned my AI against me!” 

“She has a good point, though, Tony,” Bruce said, barely looking up from his own work.

“How come he gets to keep working?”

“He came up to dinner. Which was three hours ago.”

“Was it?”

“Yes,” Miranda and Bruce said at the same time. Tony reluctantly started eating. Miranda nodded, approving, before walking over to “her” workbench and pulled up the Hydra files on her. She had been working backwards, trying to figure out what was so damn special about her. So far, nada. (Aside from what they already knew anyway.)

*****

Two a.m., apparently, is the universe’s favorite time for earth-shattering revelations. Miranda hadn’t meant to stay up so late, but she was sure she was onto something, and sure enough, she was. 

It was an unassuming file, a scanned it copy of a copy of a file type deal, with a date stamp that was old enough to make it stand out regardless: August 3, 1983. 

“Now why are you here,” Miranda muttered, enlarging the image so that she could read it properly. “Jarvis, can you search for any other references to the Hellfire Club or an E.F. or J.W.?”

“ _ This may take a few minutes, Miss Douglas _ .”

“That’s fine.” A few minutes later, Jarvis presented the few findings he had found. 

There were a few other mentions of each of her inquiries, but more references to E.F. than J.W. and far more references to the Hellfire Club than to anything else. But even that wasn’t saying much. 

Hydra had somehow gotten their hands on multiple Hellfire Club papers from between 1982 and 1984, each referencing some larger plot for world domination (from the looks of it). The club’s plan was to create super-mutants (their words not hers). Apparently E.F. and J.W. were both powerful telepaths and the club decided that their child(ren) would be part of their little army they wanted to amass, so they froze a bunch of embryos. 

Which is great, informative, helpful for understanding tensions from the ‘80s, but why the hell was it mixed up in Miranda’s files?

Ah. Well.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Did you find something?” Bruce asked, turning away from his project. 

“ _ Whattheactualfuck _ ,” Miranda hissed under her breath. 

“That’s a yes,” Tony said, both men getting up to look at what Miranda was seeing. 

“Nope, I’m out,” she said, throwing her hands up and pushing away from the desk. “I’m seeing things. I’m exhausted, I’m going to sleep. Good night.” Her hands were still above her head when she walked out of the lab, shaking her head. 

Bruce and Tony looked at the file that was still on-screen and shared a glance. 

“I don’t blame her,” Tony said, leaning back and crossing his arms. 

“Neither do I.”

*****

Miranda paced back and forth in the elevator, unsure of what to do with her hands. She crossed and uncrossed her arms, buried her fingers in her hair, put her hands on her hips, held them at her sides but she couldn’t figure out where to put them and the idea of touching herself in any way became unbearable. 

She was really glad that Steve was up. Sure he was staring at the ceiling because he couldn’t sleep, but that was beside the point. Miranda didn’t announce herself, just walked in and burrowed into his side. Steve wrapped his arm around her and said nothing.

*****

“Banner said you found something last night,” Thor said. Miranda continued to gently wipe the applesauce off Ben’s face. 

“I did, yeah. Not something I’m gonna discuss on a restaurant terrace though.” 

“He seemed worried.”

“Bruce is always worried.”

“You are upset.”

“What gave it away?” She called the waiter over and asked for their check before he could say anything else. 

*****

Miranda paced back and forth on the terrace, chanting “Pick up, pick up, pick up” under her breath. 

“Hello?” Miranda stopped pacing. 

“Mom. I have a few questions for you.”

“You can ask me anything, sweetie, you know that,” she answered hesitantly. 

“I found something very interesting last night. About me.”

“I take it it wasn’t good news?” Miranda laughed, dry and harsh. 

“That’s an understatement. Mom, what do you know about the Hellfire Club?”

“Not much.”

“But you’ve heard about them. So you know that I’m —” she choked, unable to say it aloud. “ _ Why? _ ”

“This isn’t a conversation for the phone, sweetie. I’ll call your uncle, work out a way for us to visit and discuss this.”

“No, Mom, I want  _ answers _ and I want them now.” There was a pause on the other end of the line. She heard her mother sigh. 

“I want to give you answers, sweetie, I do, but it’s —”

“Classified. FIne. Whatever. Call me when you’ve figured it out.” Miranda hung up without another word. She sank down onto one of the chairs and tried to press the tears back into her eyes.

*****

When Steve and Miranda had been fake dating for three months, (not that anyone was counting, of course) the Avengers were at another public event. Well, not all the Avengers. Clint and Nat claimed to have a mission from SHIELD (they went to the farm) and Thor was still visiting Jane (and Darcy had called to complain about it). So really, it was more like the Avengers got invited, and Steve and Tony showed up with their dates and Bruce tagged along. 

“I’ll be right back,” Miranda said, excusing herself and leaving Steve alone for a minute. He should have seen it coming. Things had been going so well.

“Well hello there.” 

“Ma’am,” Steve nodded, greeting the middle-aged woman who approached him. 

“I thought she was never going to leave.”

“Pardon?”

“That girl. She’s been hogging your attention all afternoon,” the woman said, sitting down in Miranda’s chair. They’d stayed at their table after the food had been cleared, preferring each other’s company to making small talk with strangers. Steve was starting to think small talk might have been better. (Maybe.) 

“She wasn’t hogging my attention.”

“Well no one else has gotten the chance to talk to you.” The woman rested her hand on Steve’s. He retracted it like he’d been burned. She acted like she didn’t notice. 

“Maybe I didn’t want to talk to someone else.”

“You  _ do  _ have that spunk everyone is always talking about.”

“Ma’am, is there something I can do for you?”

“Have a drink with me.”

“I already have one.”

“Oh, I don’t mean here. I have a room upstairs here, at the hotel.”

“I don’t think my date would approve.”

“Your dear Lady Liberty doesn’t need to know.”

“Too bad she already does,” Steve said, nodding over the woman’s shoulder at Miranda. She was smiling, but it was the same poisonous one she had greeted Senator Stern with. 

“Sorry I took so long, babe,” she said, coming over and wrapping her hands over Steve’s shoulders to hug him from behind, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Steve’s brain may have short-circuited a little bit. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?” she asked innocently. 

“Not at all,” the woman said, hurriedly getting up to leave. 

“Did my boyfriend bore you that much?” 

“No, no, not at all. I see why you, erm, haven’t spoken to anyone else. Have a lovely afternoon.” The woman left quickly and Miranda waved after her. 

“Please tell me this is the first time this has happened since Nat thought this little game up,” Miranda said, going back to her seat. 

“Yeah, first time since we started, yeah.” 

“Did I go too far?” she whispered, leaning in so one would hear her. Steve shook his head and she leaned back. “Okay. God, did this happen often?”

“More often than I’d like,” Steve admitted. Miranda’s eyes widened for a moment before contracting into small slits. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with shit like that, Steve. People should fucking know better,” she said, pushing up from the table. 

“Andy, wait.” She paused. 

“Steve, I can’t just sit here while —”

“Andy, sit down.” She hesitated, but sat back down. “You don’t need to do anything. You already did what you had to do: you scared her off. That’s why we’re doing this.” Her jaw clenched. 

“I still want to knock some sense into her.”

“I think you put the fear of God in her, doll.” She smirked. “She called you Lady Liberty.”

“Oh, god, that’s really a thing? Darcy told me about it but I didn’t believe her!”

“I guess so.” 

“Captain America and Lady Liberty. Poetic,” Miranda said, a bit mockingly.

“I suppose it is,” Steve laughed.

*****

She met her parents and her uncle at the same SHIELD base that she’d met her uncle at months prior. Her uncle had his usual stoic mask, but her parents looked  _ nervous _ . 

Well, they were on the receiving end of a death glare. 

Miranda signed the stupid waiver that said she wouldn’t tell anyone anything she learned while in this room. She thought it was pointless, since she just wanted confirmation of what she already put together, but didn’t say anything.

“There, I won’t spill any of your top secret secrets.”

“Sweetheart,” her dad said softly, reaching towards her. “We didn’t have a choice.”

“I know. I’m still pissed. I thought that getting kidnapped and having a demigod for a kid was gonna be the weirdest shit in my life, by now it turns out I never had a normal life after all.”

“Andy, calm down,” her uncle said. She took a deep breath and waited for them to explain. 

They started with the simple stuff. Both her parents had been SHIELD agents. They were honorably discharged about 6 months before she was born, which was 3 months after a mission went sideways and her mother had come back pregnant after being held captive for a lengthy 16 weeks. Her mother knew that there was probably going to be something strange about the baby, but she didn’t care. SHIELD just decided to keep their eye on the situation. In retrospect, Secretary Pierce’s interest in the ordeal was suspicious to say the least. 

So SHIELD kept tabs on her as she grew up. She seemed pretty ordinary until she was kidnapped, and even then nothing was all that special about her until her mutation kicked in. Which was what they were waiting for. 

So it turned out Miranda knew more than they did. 

In 1983, 17 embryos were frozen. The parents listed were E.F. and J.W. Things are quiet for a few years, but then Hydra got their hands on the files and the embryos in 1989. In 1990, they decided they wanted to carry out the Hellfire Club’s plans on their terms. In 1991, her mother was captured and subjected to hormone treatments until she was ready, at which point the embryos were thawed and one of the surviving embryos was placed in her. She was rescued before the pregnancy could progress very far. Hydra wasn’t even sure that the pregnancy had taken until her mother had gotten through SHIELD medical. 

“We still love you, sweetie,” her mother said. Miranda wasn’t nearly as angry as she had been. 

“I still love you too. You’re my family, this doesn’t change that.”

“But?” her father said.

“But it changes how I think about myself and Ben. This whole time I’ve been considering genetics… I just, I have to rethink a lot. But I don’t care about finding E.F. or J.W. for the sake of getting to know them. I don’t care. I just want to make sure there aren’t going to be any surprises.”

“I can see what my team can do,” her uncle offered. “Now you all can go get lunch or something. Bond.” They all chuckled. 

“You’re coming with us, Phil. I haven’t seen you in ages,” her mother said.

*****

Miranda was grinning, rocking back and forth on her feet giddily as they rode the elevator down to the lobby. She’d refused to give Steve any hint about what she had planned, and whatever it was had the rest of the Avengers’ stamp of approval — which wasn’t exactly a helpful clue. Not when Miranda assured them that they’d meet the rest of them for drinks at eight that night. It wasn’t even 8:30 in the morning.

“I hope you wore walking shoes,” she grinned once they got into a car. It was the closest thing to a hint that Steve was gonna get. She laced their fingers together without thinking about it. 

Steve understood why she was so excited when the car pulled up to the  _ Met _ . 

“Surprise,” she said, leaning close to look out his window at the building. “We have a private tour of Fifth Avenue before they open. Then we’ve got all day to explore the Breuer and the Cloisters.” 

“You’re amazing,” he said, turning to look at her. She was closer than he thought.  _ Kissing distance _ . Well, that was one way to quantify it. 

Then she pulled away to get out of the car, promising Happy that they’d be fine and thank you for driving and yes, of course she’d call him when they were ready to leave. As Happy pulled away, she laced her fingers through his again and lead him up the steps. 

The tour was amazing, and finished up a few minutes before the museum opened to the public. They wandered through the museum, no real destination in mind and nowhere else to be. They grabbed lunch around noon, gushing about different pieces they’d seen that morning. After lunch they headed to the Breuer. When they were leaving and heading towards the Cloisters, Miranda paused on the steps. She was a few above Steve, making them almost even in height. 

“Gettin’ tired?” Steve asked. 

“Nah, I just — I almost did something stupid, is all.”

“And what’s that?” Steve doubled back until he was only one step below her. 

“It’s stupid, c’mon let’s go,” she said, playfully pushing him away. 

“Aw, c’mon, what?”

“You remember that betting pool on us? Somebody almost won,” she said, stepping to the side to go around him. He put his arm out to stop her. 

“And how’s that stupid? Maybe somebody should win.” 

“Ms. Douglas!” someone called. Miranda’s shoulders dropped. “Could we have a word?”

“I’ll give you two: fuck off,” Miranda whispered so only Steve heard her. Then, louder so that the man could hear her, “I’m not doing any interviews today, I’m not interested in joining a Nordic cult, and if you want more info about Polaris you can go to their website.”

“That’s not why we’re here,” said the man. Miranda and Steve now looked back and forth between the two people at the bottom of the steps. The man’s red-tinted sunglasses nearly matched the woman’s hair. 

Miranda started when she felt the woman’s mind. She didn’t take too kindly to being poked at, and Miranda had never felt someone poke  _ back _ . 

_ Ms. Douglas _ , the woman said — no, thought.

_ Ma’am _ , Miranda responded. The woman almost smirked. Then she quickly gave Miranda the information that she apparently needed to know. 

“Andy,” Steve said. That was when she realized that she hadn’t said anything in a few minutes. 

“I’m fine, Steve. They’re, uh, they’re mutants. She’s a telepath, like me.” Miranda walked down the steps, and then began talking with the pair like they were old business partners. She took a business card from the woman and then they left. 

“So what was that about?”

“They run a school for mutants. To help them learn to control their powers.”

“That’s amazing! But why only contact you now?”

“Long story. C’mon, we still have to see the Cloisters.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	15. In This Age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! Age of Ultron is more or less the same. Few additions here and there that are laid out in the chapter. Enjoy!

Stacy was perched on the kitchen island when Steve came by, entertaining Ben by tossing Cheerios in the air and catching them with her mouth. 

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a question to ask you,” she said, putting the bowl of Cheerios down after putting a handful in front of Ben. “Figure you might have an answer.”

“About what?”

“If Andy’s been wearing nail polish.”

“What?”

“There’s a saying that a woman is only vulnerable while her nail polish is drying. Andy used to paint her nails all the time — if there was a chip, she put on a new coat. I know I haven’t been here long, but I haven’t seen her wear nail polish. Even to fancy parties and stuff.”

“I don’t remember her ever wearing nail polish.”

“Then I really hope it’s just ‘cause she has a kid now, or she just fell out of the habit.”

“Why’s that?”

“Andy’s always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve, ya know? She cares a lot, maybe too much sometimes. Regular knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah, she told me about how she always got into fights as a kid.”

“As a kid? There was not a semester that went by I didn’t think she wasn’t gonna get kicked out for getting in fights. But she’s a charmer, she can play innocent and vulnerable really well. She shoulda been an actress.” Stacy paused. “I know she’s been through a lot, so ‘course she’d be different, but…”

“Not this different?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s standing out to you? Aside from the lack of nail polish.”

“She seems distant, is all. And she doubts herself. Sometimes I think she wants to crawl out of her own skin.”

“Hydra… they subjected her to a cocktail of hallucinogens and dissociates. Reality is sometimes hard for her,” Steve said, paraphrasing Dr. Arzt. 

“Well then that makes sense. And I think I get why she’s distant sometimes from Ben and other times is hyper-protective. She can’t ignore who his father is and can’t forget what he did to her, but he’s still her son. He looks so much like her it’s kinda ridiculous. But what I don’t get is why she’s so distant from  _ you _ ,” she said, jabbing a finger at him accusatorily.

“Me?”

“She’s a goner when it comes to you.” 

“What?” Steve said.

“She’s always admired you and Barnes, sure, but it was more a celebrity crush-type deal. You know it’d never happen, but if you have the chance, you’d do it in a heartbeat kinda thing.”

“Okay…”

“But now she’s met you, and you’re better than anything she coulda dreamed and she’s head over heels in love with you, I can see it when she looks at you. I know you’re only fake dating,” she said, raising her hand to placate him, “and you’ve probably got your reasons, both of you, but the way you guys look at each other…” Stacy shook her head.

“How much has she told you? About what happened to her.”

“Virtually nothing. I didn’t know about the drug cocktail thing, I only know she went to Asgard ‘cause of tabloids and whatnot, and all I know about what happened to her when she was Loki’s prisoner is from what was released then. The only thing she’s told me about any of it is that she stepped in when some goons were looking at these middle-school age girls and they took her instead. That’s it.” She sounded frustrated.

“Really?” Steve asked, surprised. “I thought you were her best friend.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean she tells me things. She never thought to mention Raul was dead. She keeps her trauma to herself, I guess.”

“But she briefed us after we defeated Loki.”

“Betcha she didn’t tell you everything.”

*****

A few days later, the Avengers were patching up after their mission. Things had gone well (aside from their run-in with the Maximoffs) — they took out the Hydra base, and they finally had possession of the specter, which Thor was going to take back to Asgard after Tony and Bruce took the data that they wanted. 

Clint had just finished getting “stitched up” when Jarvis announced that Miranda had returned from her conference in DC and was currently unpacking on her floor. She was still in her olive pencil skirt and pink blouse when everyone but the Science Bros came down to greet her. Natasha scooped Ben up into her arms before he could barrel into Clint. 

“Welcome home, kid,” Clint said, hugging Miranda. 

“Thanks,” she replied as she went on to hug the others. “Ben, can you say ‘hi’ to everyone?” she asked, getting his attention. He grinned, nodding, before laying his head on Natasha’s shoulder. “Then why don’t you say something you stubborn little goofball,” she teased, tickling him.

“My mother often said that Loki was the same,” Thor chuckled. “He did not speak until he thought he had something to say.”

“Well that could take awhile,” Miranda groused. Then she waved them all into the kitchen to get something to eat and drink while they caught up on the past couple of days.

*****

The party the next night went well. It was boisterous, and everyone had a good time. Thor shared Asgardian alcohol with Steve, but Miranda politely declined when he offered it to her. She and Natasha chatted across the bar, laughing at Thor and Tony bragging about their respective girlfriends. Rhodey was grateful when Miranda laughed at his joke (it was funny after all). 

After everyone left, they sat around on the couches. 

“Alright, I’m gonna go check on Ben and probably going to crash. Night, everyone,” Miranda said, getting up from her spot. She waved over her shoulder at the grumbling for her to stay, not hesitating at all.

It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to a new topic: Thor’s hammer. Watching Tony and Rhodey was entertaining, to say the least. Thor and Steve were the only ones to notice the wiggle when Steve tried to lift (and promptly stopped lifting) the hammer. 

“Oh, no, that’s not a question I need answered,” Natasha said when Bruce gestured for her to take her turn.

“The handle’s imprinted,” Tony said. “‘Whosoever carries Thor’s fingerprint’ I think is the literal translation.”

“Yes, well, that’s an interesting theory. I have a simpler one,” Thor said, picking up his hammer and flipping it, “you’re all not worthy.”

There was a high-pitched noise, almost painful in it’s frequency. 

“No, how could you be worthy. You’re all killers.”

*****

Miranda had no idea what was going on. Okay, she had a partial idea of what was going on, since she reached out to Thor as soon as Jarvis hadn’t responded to her. (Jarvis still wasn’t responding.) Miranda sat next to Ben in a corner of the secure panic room, where she had made a nest of blankets for him to sleep on. 

He woke up after a particularly loud bang, and Miranda picked him up and held him to her chest before he could start crying. 

The noises upstairs stopped. 

“Jarvis, is it all clear?” she asked. Nothing. “Jarvis?” She was almost panicking now. “Jarvis?” Still nothing. She reached out to Thor again, a bit more forcefully, demanding an explanation. She didn’t like the answer she got. Not at all.

She left for the Bartons’ in the morning after assuring everyone that she was going somewhere safe.

*****

Miranda followed the kids out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom to wash the glue off their hands. She was helping Ben when she heard the screen door open. 

“Honey? I’m home,” Clint called. 

“Dad!” Lila said, perking up. She and Cooper took off down the hall. Miranda chuckled softly, drying Ben’s hands before setting him on his feet. He ran down the hall as quickly as he could. 

They rounded the corner in time to hear Clint say, “I figure it’s a good place to lay low.”

Ben’s face lit up when he saw Thor, running straight to him. 

“Hi everyone,” Miranda said awkwardly, glancing around. She couldn’t find any other words. Apparently neither could anyone else.

*****

Later, Clint, Laura, Natasha and Miranda were in the kitchen. Ben was contentedly feeding himself applesauce. He was surprisingly clean about it. 

“When will the safe house be ready?” Miranda asked.

“Eager to leave?” Clint said.

“Can you blame me after what happened?”

“The house is ready. We just have to make your identities,” Natasha said.

“How long will that take?”

“Not long. Though it will be difficult to make you drop off the face of the earth.”

“Once I stage a break up with Steve, no one will be surprised if I vanish for awhile.”

“You’d really do that?” Clint said. 

“A mother will do a lot, honey, you know that,” Laura said.

“Do you really want to break up with Steve?” Natasha asked.

“If that’s what I have to do, then yes.”

“But Momma you love him.” All four adults turned to look at Ben. He had a little frown on his face. “You love him,” he repeated.

“Of course you choose to speak  _ now _ ,” Miranda said, her head thumping on her crossed arms.

“Those were his first words?” Laura asked. 

“Yes,” Miranda groaned, slightly muffled by her arms. “And we’re  _ not  _ gonna talk about it,” she said, staring pointedly at each of them. Natasha raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

*****

Miranda and Laura kept up with the news, watching a live stream online of Sokovia after the kids went to sleep. Miranda worried her lip between her teeth. Her hand hurt from Laura squeezing it so tight, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

She stayed an extra three days before heading back to New York. Laura agreed to watch Ben for the next few days while she settled her affairs there.

Needless to say she was all business when she got back to the tower. She made arrangements for her and Ben’s things to be sent to the safe house.

“Why aren’t you coming to the compound?” Tony asked.

“I’m not comfortable doing that. I’m not sure what your security measures will do.”

“There’s more security there than there is here,” he argued.

“And what good will that do when the threat is from the inside?”

“You can trust the Maximoffs and Vision can lift Thor’s hammer!”

“I’m not talking about them, Tony,” Miranda said, her voice growing low and threatening. “I’m talking about Ultron.”

“What?”

“He was two floors away from my  _ son _ , Tony! This wasn’t Hydra or somebody else breaking in, you  _ made _ him! You  _ created _ a threat, and look what happened!” She was nearly shouting, gesturing towards the reconstruction going on around them. “You’ve proven that I can’t trust you to keep him safe. So we’re moving. And that’s final.” She turned on her heel and took the stairs down to her floor to oversee the packing efforts.

She was staring at a framed photo of her, Ben and Thor at Central Park that she had had on her desk that was now in a box when Steve found her. He knocked on the door frame to get her attention.

“Hey,” he said, leaning on the frame.

“Hi,” Miranda said, glancing at him before turning back and putting the photo away, closing the box.

“So you’re really moving, huh.”

“Yup. I’m only gonna be here a coupla days. We’ll have to stage something.” She leaned on the desk, staring resolutely at the floor. She didn’t need Steve’s puppy eyes right now. She’d made up her mind.

“Do we have to?”

“Since I’ll be living halfway across the country, yeah, we do. I can’t pop by all the time to go to parties and on dates and shit.”

“I guess not.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish packing,” Miranda said, turning back to the pile of boxes and all the things that still needed to be put in boxes.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, thank you. I’ve got it.”

*****

Miranda left New York three days later, having staged a mutual but public breakup in the airport. She flew to the Twin Cities, where Clint picked her up discreetly. From there they drove south to the safe house, her new home. The other Bartons were already there with Ben. The kids were playing in the living room while Laura started sorting boxes into different rooms even though she could only move the lighter ones.

Back east, the Avengers were unpacking their own things at the Avengers Compound. Pietro was a bit miffed that he had to unpack at normal speeds, but doctor’s orders. Wanda teased him by unpacking with her powers. The New Avengers were going to start training the following afternoon, giving everyone just enough time to settle before they got back to business.

Both households were busy, and the conversations were flowing easily, but in both places the mood felt off. 

They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. They were testing that, now, they supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Pietro lives. Only major change to AoU. He still took a couple a bullets, but he's not dead, and that's whats important. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this adventure so far.


End file.
